


Everybody Lies

by xAnimaniac



Category: Big Time Rush (TV)
Genre: F/F, M/M, Minor Character Death, Prostitute, gay gang life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-10
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-30 08:12:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10872741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xAnimaniac/pseuds/xAnimaniac
Summary: James and Jett are gang leaders and rivals. But after men from both gangs are killed by some invaders, they reluctantly form an alliance. And that's when James meets Kendall, the escort of Jett's gang, who's inked all over, a bit rude and wants nothing to do with him. Why give up his nice home and nice pay with Jett just to run off with another gang? But James is not a quitter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic.

Jett Stetson was born to David and Cheryl Stetson.

David worked in a theatre, selling tickets and snacks and offering people special offers on the next play they might see. Cheryl was a lecturer in journalism, very bright but quite strict, much stricter than her husband. They balanced each other out. They had another son three years before Jett was born, named Alan. He loved sports and was a very clever kid. A dream child to anyone, really.

Jett played sports too from a young age, keeping fit to appease his parents. But really, he knew from his first homemade puppet show at age four that he wanted to be an actor. David was all for supporting him, cheering him on when he put on these little performances. When Jett was eight years old, for his birthday, David brought him to the theatre where he worked, getting him a great seat right close to the front. Of course, he made sure it was a ticket to something the kid would enjoy, and he certainly did. Since then, every month David would take him to the theatre. Sometimes he was sitting at the very back in an empty seat that hadn't been sold, but he still enjoyed it just as much. It only helped his dreams to grow. He wanted to be one of those performers more than anything.

"Do you think I can be a star too?" he asked his father once, as they drove home after a wonderful performance of Hairspray.

"Kid, I know you can," David chuckled. "And we're gonna make it happen, you and me. Alright?"

And Jett truly began to believe he could do it too. He played the lead in his elementary school play while Alan won a kiddie sports medal, again. David helped out with every rehearsal he could, and went to see the play both nights. Cheryl was too busy, Alan had a sports event she couldn't miss. Jett had never minded this absence too much.

It was when he turned eleven that David figured it was time they really begin to work at this acting thing. So he began to look around for acting jobs for children, in commercials or brief appearances in TV shows and movies. Jett did his first commercial for a new range of shiny bicycles, and they used the money to buy him a new CD player. It wasn't exactly the type of role that he'd been looking forward to playing, but as David reassured him, it was only the beginning.

Just after he turned twelve, they reached when they felt would really be his big break. David was sure Jett could get the part; it was for a new comedy TV series about some dysfunctional family. He'd be playing one of the sons if he was chosen. It was an amazing opportunity, and so he practiced like crazy every day leading up to the audition. David ran lines with him before school and in the evening, while Cheryl helped Alan with his homework.

On the day of the audition, David drove Jett to the studio and walked him to where the other boys were waiting. "I'm sorry I can't stay, kid," he said apologetically, giving him a hug. "I just have to cover an hour or two for Tony at the theatre." Not every boy there had a parent with them, but not all of them were alone either. Jett wasn't worried; he knew he would be fine.

"It's okay," Jett replied cheerfully, sitting down in one of the chairs. "You know what time to pick me up?"

"I'll be here. Break a leg!"

Jett read over his script three times, before deciding that he didn't want to psych himself out, and just sat and twiddled his thumbs for the rest of his waiting time. His knees were shaking, but he was so unbelievably excited that he was fighting to keep the smile off his face. He was the tenth boy to go on. He bounded in and stood on the mark on the floor, waving. "Hi!"

"Hi," one of the men behind the large table relied with a small smile, glancing over his paper. "Jett Stetson?"

"Yep!"

"Okay, nice to meet you Jett. Whenever you're ready."

He did pretty well, he felt. He projected his voice, he was witty, he was confident. He got all his lines right, and the producers were smiling when he finished. "Thank you, Jett," another said, this one a woman as she noted something in her book. "We'll call you by three tomorrow and let you know. Next!"

Jett hurried out of the room and sat back where he'd been waiting, and waited for his father to arrive. Other boys went into the audition room and came back out, some leaving immediately with their accompanying adult, others sitting and waiting like him. All the boys had auditioned, and he still sat there. There were only two left waiting to be picked up when his mother suddenly burst through the door, Alan at her heels.

He looked up, smiling but a little puzzled as he made his way over to them. "It went so well," he told them, grinning and hugging her. "I think I may have got a callback! Where's Dad?"

Cheryl gripped his shoulders tightly and took a deep breath, before saying in a low voice, "Jett, he was in an accident on his way here. We just got a call from the hospital."

It was after that that Jett's ears began to ring. Cheryl roughly tugged him out to the car and he got in the back, staring blankly ahead as she started the car. This was the first time he ever experienced road sickness.

When they got to the hospital, the doctors informed them that David would need emergency surgery, but they had time to see him before he went in. Jett was the first to run to the bed, eyes filling with tears as they met his father's barely open ones. He was cold and tired and battered all over. "Dad," he whimpered, trying not to cling to him too hard.

"Hey, don't cry . . ." David managed to hug him back, if very weakly. He smiled at him. "I'll be okay. We both will."

Jett had to let Alan and Cheryl say their few words to him, before he was wheeled away into the operation room. When he did come back out, his body and face were covered with a cold sheet.

The following afternoon, Jett was called and informed he got a callback. He didn't take it. He just couldn't.

From then on, he had only the confidence to stick to school productions and backstage assistance. When he started high school, he had to walk there, and passed the theatre every single day, on the way there and on the way home. He always tried to stay far away, tried not to look at it. For the first few weeks, he succeeded. But one day something changed, and he just couldn't take his eyes off it. His bottled up grief came spilling down his cheeks as he just kept standing and staring.

For the first few months after his father's death, Cheryl had shown only pure grief and despair, and Alan along with her. Alan, soon enough, began to move on. Maye not on the inside, but on the outside he began to give no indication that he even remembered he had a father. Cheryl wept to Jett one night that she knew he was just masking his depression, the poor boy, trying to hide his pain from her to make her feel better. It was Jett's fault he died, she said.

That was the first night she hit him, hard across the face. The smack rang out in the kitchen, and his ears began ringing again.

He'd heard some vague information at school about abusive relationships. Not all of it was accurate, he knew that. But one part he distinctly remembered; once the abuser started, that was it. They'd opened a whole new window and there was nothing to hold them back anymore. This was certainly true for Cheryl. Once she started, it seemed she couldn't stop.

Of course, he never told anybody. This weakness wasn't something he was proud of. And anyway, who would he tell? He didn't any close friends; he didn't have many friends in general. And as for Alan, well . . . the truth was, Jett had no idea if he knew or not. Cheryl still treated him like a king. Maybe he didn't want to lose that. Or maybe he was just fooled by her sugary, motherly exterior. Jett knew her better than that, and wished more than anything that he didn't.

His weakness made him angry. It filled him from head to toe with this unbearable hatred for the world, this searing pain, that he only felt a little relief from the first time he knocked another kid down in the hallway. He opened his own new window and had no intention of closing it. He could finally get some air.

He began to beat up smaller kids just because he could. Just because Cheryl could. Then he started picking fights with bigger kids. His anger gave him strength that they, despite their greater physical build, always lacked. He had a few talks with the principal, saying his parents were being called in to speak about his behaviour. Only Cheryl came, nodding and apologising and appearing very concerned. She didn't give a shit. She had Alan-related affairs to attend to. She always did.

As he grew older, one morning as he passed the theatre, he suddenly decided he wouldn't stand for this anymore. He thought about suicide. He thought about murder. But there was one option left that seemed much easier, much more manageable. A scary prospect, but the offer of freedom outweighed that completely. And so he put his plan into action.

When he was sixteen, he snuck into his mother's bedroom in the middle of the night. She kept money in an envelope in a shoebox in the back of her closet that she'd won in a contest months ago. He knew she hadn't spent it; she'd promised Alan that they could spend it on some great vacation soon. He slipped the envelope into his backpack, before filling it up with as many clothes as he could fit, his toothbrush and toothpaste, a comb and some hair gel, a bar of soap and some personal possession he still managed to hold dear. Just before he left the front yard, he got this sudden urge; he picked up one of the garden gnomes and flung it right through the window. The burglar alarm began to blare, but by the time Cheryl and Alan arrived to see what had happened, he had disappeared into the night.

He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself once he'd run far and fast enough and finally felt that he was safe. He hung around in the streets until morning, afraid to lie anywhere and sleep. He had to keep his money and himself safe.

He wasn't quite sure what to do with himself when morning came. He decided to go get breakfast in a nearby café, and stuffed himself until he was full. An hour later he found himself in a tattoo parlour, getting a dragon inked on his bicep. Cheryl hated tattoos.

He met an older man outside the parlour when he came out, smoking a cigarette. He was gruff, with a greying beard and shaved head, and a pierced eyebrow. He himself had two colourful sleeves. In the spur of the moment, Jett stopped beside him and said, "Spare me a cigarette?"

The man glanced over at him, eyeing the gauze bandage on his arm before nodding and handing him one, along with his shiny black lighter. "You look a little young to be getting that done," he said gruffly. "How old are you, fourteen?"

"Sixteen," Jett snapped indignantly, taking a drag and trying not to cough too loudly, back of his hand pressed to his mouth. "Hey, not my fault you didn't age well."

He was treading in dangerous territory, he knew that. But the stranger didn't hit or kick him, like he expected. He just laughed. "Witty, I like that."

"What are you doing standing outside here? Waiting for your turn?"

"Nah, one of my guys is in there. He's getting one of these." He flashed his forearm which had some kind of symbol on it. It had a flame in the middle. Jett, as he quickly wracked his brains, could only think of two instances where people would have matching tattoos. One, if they were a couple. But since he had said one of his 'guys', plural, that couldn't be the case. The only option left was a gang. This man was in a gang?

He voiced his question to the stranger, and he gave a chuckle. "Yep. Best in the city, I think. Sure, I've got a scrappy bunch and they're all like you. Kids off the street. But I manage 'em well and they make me proud. They're my own lost boys."

"Lost boys?"

"You know, Peter Pan? I guess you grew up in a cave."

Jett glanced away and scowled, taking another drag and finding he could handle this one better. However he'd had enough and tossed it onto the ground, stomping on it and putting it out. Then he picked up the cigarette and threw it away, before turning back to the man and forcing the words out before he could stop them, "Can I join?"

The stranger gaped at him, before frowning and pursing his lips. Finally he shrugged, gave a smile and a sigh and clapped Jett on the shoulder. "I can make an exception. But don't get on my bad side, or you're out. Got it?"

"Got it," Jett replied joyfully, shaking the man's hand. "Thank you. I'm Jett."

He nodded. "I'm Ray."

Jett sniggered. "As in the fish?"

"Jett, as in the plane?" Ray retorted sharply. But he was grinning.

"Fair enough. So should I be getting one of those tats too?"

"You've just been in there, let's wait a bit. You might change your mind and bail on me. Not that I'm recommending you even try. But that ink is a bitch to remove."

"I won't bail," Jett vowed. He had nothing else.

He met the other boys later that day; they all lived in one house together with Ray. There were five others, some younger and some older. He got along well with them, and especially with Ray. He became the older's right hand man, as he secretly put it to him, over time. He didn't want to be vocal about it though, for fear of angering the other guys. They did intimidate him. But he started to get braver, and he started to get tougher.

When Jett was twenty, Ray had a stroke. It hospitalised him, and only an hour later, it killed him. And that was it. The gang, now composed of a couple of originals, himself included, and some new members who had joined over the years, had no idea what to do. They'd lost the head and heart of their gang. They felt it was only a matter of time before it would dissolve into nothing. "No," Jett said suddenly, standing in the centre of their living room and catching his distraught friends' attention. "We can't just let this go. He wouldn't want that, alright? We're just gonna have to choose a new leader, and keep going. If anyone wants to leave, they can . . . but I know not all of you want to, if any. So this is our only option."

The boys were all quiet, glancing back and forth between one another, silent words passing between them. Finally one, named Wayne, that Jett had come to view as a close friend, said, "What about you?"

Jett froze, gaping at him. "M-me?"

"Well, why not?" Another boy agreed, folding his arms. "You know all Ray's meeting spots. You know all his contacts. He brought you along to everything, you know it all as well as he did."

It was true, he did. Jett thought long and hard to himself for a moment or two. It was a lot of responsibility, a lot of pressure . . . but somehow that didn't matter.

"Okay. I'll do it."

He met James four years later, in one of those meeting places unexpectedly passed on to him. Another new gang leader, starting out even younger than he had. They should've found that they had a lot in common, really. That didn't happen. James was a douchebag, he was childish and arrogant and ignorant as fuck. But according to James, so was he.

"Don't think you can just waltz in here acting like a fucking king," Jett was seething. "We're the best there is. Not you. You're wasting your time, kid."

"I'm not even that much younger than you? Fucktard."

And so their bitter rivalry began. And a year after that started was when he met Kendall, and finally found a solution to all that built up stress.

* * *

 

James Diamond was born to Joe and Brooke Diamond.

Because of this, it was natural that he would grow up in a home of fortune and endless comfort. His father was the owner of a massive company which specialised in the production of TVs and CD players. And his mother was the CEO of the legendary Diamond Cosmetics, a field of beauty and self-care that stretched from coast to coast, and even ventured abroad after many years of her hard work bad determination. She had always been a woman to be feared, one you could never say no to. So James never did.

Many would say that James lived a charmed life until he was seven years old. This of course wasn't true; sure, he lived in a wonderful house, a stable environment, was the son of two very successful parents and raised by some very kind-hearted nannies. And his dad still even found some time to play the occasional game or two with him. His mother sometimes let him bake cookies in the kitchen with the nanny while she offered a hand in putting the tray in the oven. It was better than nothing. It was certainly better than what was to come.

He'd been seven for about five months when this unbearable incident occurred. His nanny had briefly gone to the store only a few minutes away to buy some groceries, promising that she wouldn't be long and that he could jut watch cartoons until she came back. So he sat quietly in his playroom and watched Tom and Jerry, content as always. His mother was at work, his father was at work, but it was all okay. He had Rosalina and he loved her.

It turned out that his father came home rather early. James heard the front door slamming shut and some voices, two if he was correct. He didn't know who it was at first, assuming that one of them was Rosalina and just staying put, waiting for her to walk in and greet him. However, when she didn't, he hopped up off the couch and his little legs carried him off down the hallway to see where the voices were coming from.

They were coming from the good living room. He was forbidden to play in there or ever go in by himself; he'd get the expensive couches dirty and probably break an ornament or two. But he could hear his father's voice, he could hear him and his guest laughing, so couldn't he go in? He knew it was a lady's voice, but he didn't know who. So he shrugged, opened the door, and walked in.

His dad and this lady were lying on one of the expensive leather couches, kicking off their clothes and kissing each other. The woman knelt upright and took off her underwear just as his father suddenly spotted him in the doorway. "James, what are you doing in here?!"

"Who is that?" James squeaked, hand clinging onto the doorknob, knees trembling.

"It's nobody, just—"

"James, you can't be in here . . . oh good god." Rosalina immediately covered her eyes, screeching her apologies over and over as she picked James up in her arms and ran from the room, shutting the door hard behind her.

"Who was that lady?" James wailed, clinging to her and beginning to cry.

"No, James, dear, hush . . ." She cradled him in her arms and brought him into the kitchen, sitting down with him on her lap. "Don't cry."

"Do you know her?"

"You know, I think I do . . . I saw her at the last Christmas party, when I went to get us more snacks. But Jamie, I promise you I didn't know she would be here."

"What were they doing?" James whimpered. "What about Mommy?"

"I don't know." Rosalina said softly, cradling him and cursing Mr Diamond for causing this.

"Do we tell her?"

"I don't know," she repeated, because she really didn't.

James and Rosalina spent some time trying to decide if they would tell Brooke or not. However, it later turned out that they didn't have to. She found out on her own.

So when James was eight, his father and his things were gone, and his mother was filled with hurt and anger. She decided to use this as motivation for more work, to achieve more success. Less time at home, in other words.

It took James a lot of time to understand what had happened with his mom and dad. Rosalina told him it would, she said it was something for older boys. She said that all he really needed to know was that sometimes people just fall out of love, but it doesn't mean they love their child any less. This, of course, would be a comfort to any child with loving parents. But he wasn't one of those.

When he was ten, Rosalina was let go suddenly, because Brooke felt she needed a change of staff. She also didn't particularly like the old nanny's way of thinking. James pleaded and cried and clung to her as she left, and she cried too. But she still left, and he was given a new nanny. And another. And another.

When he was eleven, he learned that his father's new wife used to be his secretary, and was fifteen years younger than him. When he was thirteen and put into sex education class, all he could think of was when he saw his father and that woman writhing on the couch together, that day everything went wrong. Sometimes it was all he could think about, all that consumed him.

It was when he began high school that he began to think more about this style of life he could only guess his father had now. Money got you what you wanted, that much was obvious. James had money, sure, but he wasn't quite sure whether or not he'd be willing to share it with other people. But it did become clear to him as time passed that there were other strengths he had inherited from his bullshit dad.

He was blessed with good looks and natural charm as he grew older, and used it to his advantage everywhere he went. Essentially, he picked girls and guys up, and threw them down again once he'd had his fun. It was the kind of lifestyle his father probably had. Everyone wanted you, so you got laid, but you didn't have to keep on a single one of them. It was perfect, wasn't it? Any man's dream.

He continued to take advantage of this throughout his high school life. He coerced people into bed when him. He skipped classes with them, hooked up with then at parties, took them to his big fancy house, hung around at theirs. He was never rejected, he never failed. Not once.

When he was seventeen, he got caught having sex with Amy Finster in a janitor's closet and got sent to the principal's office. All she got was a detention but he talked back, argued, even hit on the vice principal, and so he began a three day suspension. His mother never answered the calls from the school, as far as he knew. She didn't talk to him much, if at all. He was still never rejected.

He had so much money, so much comfort in his life. But it was cold, and it was loveless. Being ignored by his mom was becoming unbearable.

When he was eighteen, he moved out. The day of his birthday, in fact; it was the best gift he could have given himself. He had plenty of money in his bank account and all his things packed into the trunk of his car. He moved into a small apartment in the city and settled down there, alone but no more miserable than he had been before.

He didn't contact his father. He never called his mother. Of course part of him did miss her, but the other part was sure that the woman he used to love had died long ago. His mother didn't exist anymore, CEO and divorcee Brooke Diamond did. Sometimes he just couldn't bear to accept it. It wouldn't kill him to drop by, just once.

Six months after he left, James decided to venture back to that elite housing estate, wandering past the immaculately trimmed lawns lined up with shop-bought flowers in the earth patches. Shiny sports cars in the driveways, and of course, no kids playing outside. They would get their clothes dirty.

He stopped outside Number 6, seeing that the grass was still perfectly trimmed,the same white roses in the front yard. But there was no car in the driveway. And there was a bright 'For Sale' sign stuck in the middle of the lawn.

Of course he could have called her to ask where she'd gone. But he didn't; he left the estate, and he never went back.

He wasn't entirely sure why exactly he got into street gangs, and that whole rough lifestyle. He supposed it was boredom more than anything; he wasn't in college and at that point, he'd never bothered applying for a job anywhere, as he had enough money to get by. He was nineteen when he became involved in his first gang. He was only twenty when he formed his own, leading it with a firm hand. He guessed that was all his mother had given him.

He met Jett when he was almost twenty three. The guy was an asshole; so arrogant, so rude, and definitely not better looking than him, whatever he might say. James wouldn't say they were enemies, per se. They didn't have wars, they didn't ambush one another. Sure, if a great opportunity arose to kill them all off, he'd do it. But if it didn't benefit him in anyway, he wasn't sure if he'd even bother. But they certainly didn't like each other. They weren't friends. They weren't allies.

About a year and a half later was when he met Kendall. Needless to say, he couldn't believe Jett had the idea before he did.

* * *

 

Kendall Knight was born to Andrew and Jennifer Knight.

Andrew married for the first time at a very young age; only twenty one. He and Jennifer were convinced that they were madly in love, that they were made for each other. For a while everything was just fun and games. They had frequent and crazy (and protected) sex, went on road trips together, hung out in bars and clubs with their friends when they weren't at their jobs.

However, suddenly, Jennifer wanted to settle down even more. She wanted to be mature. She started telling him off when he came home late from clubs. She started lecturing him and demanding to know what he wanted for their future. It began to turn into a situation when he wan't even sure if he saw a future with her anymore. She wasn't who she'd appeared to be back when they took that crazy trip to Vegas. And yet he was stuck.

Then, by chance, Andrew met a beautiful young woman named Kim. She was totally different to his wife; much prettier, much more fun, someone who could laugh at anything and everything. And she had a wonderful laugh.

He had some awareness that what he was doing was wrong. But Kim knew he was married, and she told him that she didn't care. She hoped to have a real relationship with him some day, but for now she was happy with what she had. She loved him, she said. He was sure he loved her too. When he went away on business trips, really he went to see her, spending all the time he could loving her and trying not to think about his wife back home, waiting for him. Whenever he returned to her, he felt a form of guilt, and strong endearment towards her too. He could never tell whom he loved more. It changed, depending on who he was with.

Then Kim called him one day, and told him she'd just taken a test and discovered she was pregnant. He was over the moon, praying it was a daughter, as he'd always wanted one. He and his wife, thus far, hadn't managed to have a child. He longed for one. He promised Kim that when she had the baby, as soon as he could, he would leave his wife and be with her. She was satisfied. Nine months later, Kim had a beautiful baby girl named Katie.

Seven days later, Jennifer, his wife, announced her own pregnancy to him. He was gobsmacked. And figured hey, karma was a bitch. He explained the situation to Kim. She was iffy, but seemed to accept it without much complaint. She'd waited this long, she told him. She could wait longer. She understood. He loved her so much.

Jennifer had a boy who looked just like him. It was unnerving. He didn't feel the same attachment to him as he felt to Katie; perhaps it was because he didn't feel the same urge to brush the mother's sweaty hair aside and kiss her forehead to let her know he loved her, and that he was here for her, always.

He managed to continue juggling these two lives for the next couple of years. Katie was always happy to see him. Kim was too, but occasionally asked him, when would it be permanent? He could never answer her. He didn't know how to.

Then when his son, Kendall, was three, Jennifer went to a high school reunion one night with friends. She never made it home. Something about a truck driver losing control, complete carnage on the roads. Kendall didn't understand what was happening. He just kept asking when Mommy was coming home. Andrew explained it to him again in a much less patient voice. His little mouth trembled and he began to cry. He wanted comfort. Andrew couldn't give it to him.

Kim was terribly sympathetic of course, when she heard about the death of his whole family, as he told her. But it meant he could be with her and Katie, and this she liked. He told her he'd move in once he had things sorted. She lived quite a way away at this point, having moved to a bigger place to make space for him. Just the three of them. There was no space for a fourth.

"I'll come back and get you, okay?" Andrew said, sitting Kendall down on the park bench. "Be sure to be careful on . . . you know, the swings and stuff. Yeah."

"Okay." He smiled, so trusting. "Bye, Daddy."

"Bye,"Andrew mumbled, turning and fleeing from the park.

He played on the swings and the jungle gym, and the slide. He looked around for his dad. He played some more. He cut his knee and looked around, hoping to be cuddled. But nobody was there. He got tired and gave up on playing. It wasn't fun anymore. And still nobody came back for him.

Later, Kendall was back sitting on the park bench and snivelling. The sun was setting, clouds overhead, and he was cold. Cold and miserable. He had a strong feeling now, though he was only a child, that his dad wasn't coming back. Wouldn't he be back by now? He wouldn't let Kendall be cold. He'd hug him and take him home. He was sleepy and hungry and thirsty and cold and he was all alone. Was that normal?

"Sweetie?"

Kendall looked up, eyes wide. A dark haired woman stood in front of him, holding the handle of a stroller in one hand. A little girl in a pink shirt stood beside her, sipping from a juice pouch. "Are you by yourself, sweetie? Where are your parents?" She'd been watching him for a few hours now, quietly observing how for a while he'd played on the swings and on the jungle gym. But now he sat alone, while normally, any child would sit with their parent. So where was his?

"Daddy left me," Kendall whimpered, lip quivering as he dried his eyes and gave a large sniffle. She immediately produced a tissue, dabbing at Kendall's flushed cheeks and encouraging him to blow his nose. "Don't cry, sweetie," she said sympathetically. "I . . . I'm sure he'll be back." But of course, she wasn't sure. Not even a little.

Kendall just clung to her, crying. She introduced herself to him as Kelly Wainwright. When the time came around for the park to close, and nobody had shown up for him, Kelly wrapped Kendall up in her red coat and took him home with her. It probably wasn't the best idea, of course. But she figured that if three year old Kendall Knight's parents did want to look for him, there would be a missing person's report published, and she could return him then.

Kendall stayed with her for three weeks, and no such report was ever made. He slept in the spare room in the gigantic double bed, so tiny and helpless and lonely. She found herself growing attached to him. He got along well with her daughter and he was very well-behaved. But she knew that it couldn't last. Her husband was away in another country for a few months. But he would be back soon; she didn't intend on telling him about Kendall until then. Truthfully, she was afraid to.

Kelly's husband returned eight months later, when Kendall was four. Instantly she was met with a tirade of abuse. She couldn't keep him, he wasn't theirs. Just some stranger's dumbass kid. "Get rid of him. I won't have him in my home, do you hear me?!"

She cried and pleaded and tried to appeal to his more sympathetic side, but it was no good. So with a heavy heart, she told Kendall she loved him very much, and she was sorry, and maybe they'd see each other again some day. But she had to give him up. And so a month later, Kendall found himself in his third home; a foster home run by a woman in her fifties named Rhonda. There were four other children in her home, whom she took care of like a mother; eight year old twin girls, a thirteen year old boy and a ten year old girl.

Rhonda was a cheery woman with dyed auburn hair, slightly overweight with permanent rosy cheeks. She smoked cigarettes, but only outside in the backyard. She said she would never dream of forcing her poor foster kids to inhale that poison. She called it a poison as she slowly drew it into her lungs again and again.

Rhonda was sweet to Kendall. She gave him baths and dried him off afterwards, ruffling his hair until it stuck up in crazy spikes and made him giggle. Because he was the youngest there, he naturally got the most attention but also the most jealousy directed towards him. The twins would often take the toys he liked the most from the playroom before he could play with them, so instead he would go and sit in the living room on the floor, watching television with the older children.

He grew comfortable there. He began to speak better, began to become a little less shy. He began to get along with the twins, and started to play with them on a regular basis. Rhonda was called one afternoon by the adoption agency; they had two parents looking to adopt. They'd heard about the twin girls. Kendall understood then that this home would never be permanent, as the twins packed up their things and disappeared. The eldest boy answered Kendall's questions first, propping the child up on his lap and telling him how he'd arrived here when he was nine, and since then, six children had come to the house, only to leave again some time later. "It's like a hotel when you think about it, kid," he said. "Except you don't really know when you're gonna check out."

They all checked out when Rhonda had her first, and last, heart attack. Kendall was eight years old then, and he cried for hours. He'd truly become attached to her. He was placed in a children's home; the kids in there called it a dumping ground. A place for children who weren't being adopted, or being fostered by loving parents. It was full of kids, all sharing rooms and eating each other's food and starting fights every other day. He grew to be like them so he wouldn't be eaten alive. He had to adapt, and he adapted.

The occasional sympathetic foster parent would show up. Most of them left without a child. And when they didn't, it was never him.

He got his first piercing when he was twelve, on his bottom lip. One of the older girls did it for him by the dirty bathroom sink. He could've cried, it hurt a lot. But he'd steeled himself up too much by then. Two months later, he got a little silver stud in the middle of his tongue, and felt no pain.

He got his first tattoo when he was fourteen. Along the side of his left hand, a series of little black X's. One of the other boys at the home cheekily asked him if it was because he expected his hands to be kissed. The kid came out of that with a black eye and a busted lip.

When he was fifteen, he lost his virginity in the backseat of a car. He'd first met this particular boyfriend in a coffe shop near his school. He claimed to be a junior, when in fact he'd graduated that previous summer. It made no difference to him. By now he had two tattoos; his second one was on his ankle. It was a butterfly, and the older's large hand covered it as he held his legs up and pounded into him, no gentleness about it. Gentleness had stopped affecting him, anyway. He felt no pain.

He knew when he was eighteen, he would be thrown out of the home. They were desperate to get rid of him, he knew that. So, when he was seventeen, he left. He packed up what he had, which wasn't much, nicked some food from the refrigerator and managed to track down where the mother of the house kept the money. For a moment he wanted to take it all. Some little sliver of conscience left in him stopped that, and he only took half. Which wasn't much. He didn't care; this time, he was leaving of his own free will. He would not be thrown aside again, he would not be abandoned again. He left a note, so he hoped nobody would look for him.

_You never cared about me anyway. I don't blame you, it's not your job to. It's whatever. Go fuck yourselves xx_

He bunked with a friend and found a job. It was a crappy one, night shifts waiting in a crappy diner that almost nobody ever went to. During the day he worked at a register that a lot of people stayed away from. He'd go outside and smoke when he knew nobody would dare check out at his till, slowly drawing the poison into his lungs.

He met Jett some few weeks later, outside a grocery store. He was sitting on the wall with a cigarette and a strawberry cupcake. Jett passed him, saw him smoking, asked to borrow his lighter. "So what's with the cupcake?" he asked gruffly as he lit up, sticking the cigarette between his lips and taking a long breath. "Looks a little too fairy princess for you."

Kendall scoffed, rolling his eyes. "It's my birthday. I'm eighteen."

"Huh." Swiping a dollop of frosting on his finger, Jett popped it into his mouth and winked. "Happy birthday."

Kendall grunted in annoyance, swatting him away. "Buy your own, dick. This is basically my monthly bonus."

"Hmm." Jett sat down on the wall next to him, watching him take a bite of his pathetic little cake. "Would you by any chance be interested in a well enough paid job that comes with free lodging as well as other paid expenses? And you get to spend a ton of personal time with yours truly, which is yet another reward."

Kendall rolled his eyes again, but he did take another drag before turning to him and asking, "You're serious? I'm not qualified in anything."

"Doesn't matter." Jett stood up and offered a hand. "Why don't we take a walk, and we can talk about it more. Sound good?"

"I have time," Kendall agreed, getting up and following the man down the street. "And give me back my lighter!"

Six months later, Kendall met James. Obviously he didn't know him very well, nor did he care to. But of course, that was only the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

James had always been protective of the rest of his gang. They were his friends, his family, he would defend them to the death. So whenever any were injured or killed, he didn't take kindly to it.

When he found Tyler's body in an alley not even too far from his home, with a clear bullet wound in his head, but a shit ton of bruises to add insult to injury, safe to say he was pretty ticked off, and unhappy. But also worried.

There was no doubt in James' mind that Tyler had been killed by another gang. There were always the same signs; when a gang committed some act against another meant to bother them — and James used that term loosely; anger or threaten were usually more accurate terms — there were always certain signs. Their act was left in plain sight, at least, plain sight to the gang involved. Always somewhere they would see it, usually in their area. There was always some kind of sign to show who'd done it, to show they shouldn't be messed with. James had become accustomed to these because over the years his and Jett's gang had committed many of these acts against one another. However, none of them had been murder. And this time, the sign was a gang symbol spray painted on a wall by Tyler's body. And it wasn't Jett's.

"What do you think it means?" Logan asked as he stood close to the wall, hand lightly touching the now dried in paint mark. "That another gang killed Tyler?"

"Well, it's the only explanation, isn't it?" James retorted with a roll of his eyes. Of course, he didn't mean to be snappy with Logan. But this wasn't good news for them. "There must be some new men in town. But we don't know who or where they are. But they obviously knew who we were, and that Tyler was one of us . . ."

"What are we gonna do?" Carlos said with a sigh, folding his arms. James had brought in a couple more of his men to take Tyler's body away, so all that was left was the matter of dealing with the murderers. But it was much more complicated than needed, unfortunately.

"There's probably not a whole lot we can do to these guys when we know nothing about them," James replied, biting his lip and eyeing the mark on the wall. "I think our best option is to take the time to find out more about them, and with time, maybe we can get rid of them, chase them off if not more, I don't care how we do it. The thing is, though, not knowing anything about them, but knowing that they went straight to killing as their first threat, I think we'll need some help. That's my plan, I guess."

"Help?" Carlos' eyes widened and he turned to stare at Logan in disbelief. "You don't mean . . ."

"I do. Look, I know we don't get along, but I doubt he'll be happy about these new guys either, we can get help. A temporary alliance, I guess. So guys, come with me. It's time to leave a message of our own." With that, James left the spot where Tyler had been left and headed off down the street, Carlos and Logan following him. It was late morning, so the traffic was beginning to lighten on the roads, and the streets themselves were emptier as people vanished to work or school. They walked right out of their reign, James finally stopping when he took a right down an alley and turned the corner, out of sight from the street, and right in Jett and his gang's territory. Turning towards a wall that didn't have too much graffiti on it, he took out a can of aerosol paint, blue. His favourite colour. He quickly sprayed his gang's symbol on the wall. Then underneath, close to the ground, he painted half hidden behind a dumpster, a time. 15:00.

"I know you guys are confused," James chuckled as he stood up, putting the can away and wiping his blue tipped fingers on his jeans. "But don't worry, they'll see it. And they'll know what it means. I want our whole gang to get together and come here at three. I trust that you two can gather them up."

"No problem," Logan and Carlos said together, and the three of them quickly moved back onto the street and returned to the safety (well, what used to be safety) of their own ground. James wasn't keen about seeing Jett, and having to team up with the guy. But these new men were a bigger threat not just to his power, but to his and his friends' lives and he wouldn't stand for that. A brief if taxing alliance, was their only hope.

* * *

 

James and his gang stood by the wall at three o'clock that afternoon, James pacing a little with his arms folded, the others keeping a sharp eye out. He glanced at his watch every half a minute or so; he just couldn't keep still. The thought of speaking to Jett, treating him like an ally, was something that made him feel a little ill if he was honest. The two had never been even remotely close to that and he hadn't thought they ever could be.

"Hey, hey, they're here," Tad said suddenly, smacking James' arm and pointing.

James looked up to see Jett approaching followed by his gang. James straightened up quickly and stepped in front of his friends, him and Jett finally coming face to face. "Hi," James greeted a little sullenly, meeting the older man's eyes. They may have only been a year apart, but Jett always would've bragged that he had more experience in the gang world than James did, having lived in it longer. But that didn't make him better. It  _didn't._

"So what brings you here?" Jett asked bluntly, arms folded.

James glanced behind him at his gang, one he'd never seen before. When Jett spoke he quickly looked back at him and said steadily, "Well, we know that there's a new gang in town, threatening us. Figured they'd be after you too. And, well . . . if we get rid of them together, then we can just go back to how things were. We're both at risk here 'cause of this."

Jett stared hard at him, hopefully processing what he was saying. James just stood there and waited, trying not to show his impatience.

"Well, I guess we may as well introduce ourselves," Jett said at last, turning to indicate to each member of his gang. Most of them murmured a brief "Hi" or waved as he mentioned them. "This is Wayne, my right hand man. That's Dak, Guitar Dude, there's Ozzie. There's Stephanie and Canille, and that's Kendall." Jett looked over at the blond, the new guy, who was fishing in his jacket pocket for something. "Kendall," he repeated pointedly. The blond finally looked up, glancing over at James and his gang and nodding briefly, "Hey."

 _"Hello,"_  James replied flirting, grinning at him. The shorter man rolled his eyes and went back to his pocket, Jett stepping a little closer to him and scowling at James. "Don't even," he said coldly.

James rolled his eyes, choosing not to dignify him with an answer. Or obedience; but all that would come later. "Right, these are my guys. Carlos and Logan. And Lucy. Steve, Tad, and Dirt Boy. Tyler was the one we lost . . ." His tone sobered at the thought. "He was a good guy. The youngest of us, actually. He didn't stand a chance, I guess."

"Well, I can tell you we know how you feel," Jett said grimly, arms folded. "We found TJ's body just a couple days ago . . . it's been tough. This is what we need to do."

"Oh, you . . . they got at you too?" When Jett gave a little shrug and nodded, James couldn't help feeling empathetic. Even towards someone like Jett. "Well, I guess we know what we have to do then."

"Uh huh." There was a moment of silence, before Jett said, surprisingly, "Why don't we talk more over drinks? I need a beer."

"Oh." James cleared his throat. "Um, sure. You know a place nearby?"

"I do, come on."

The group headed off onto the street, walking together and talking quietly amongst themselves. Of course, no conversation was exchanged between gangs, not yet. None of them felt very comfortable around each other. James walked behind Jett and Kendall, watching the blond's hips move as he walked. He bit his lip, tilting his head slightly to get a better view. Carlos raised his eyebrows at him and grinned as they walked.

They all came to a bar and Jett led them inside, pointing to a couple of tables by the door. A few of his sat down on the stools and benches, while others went straight up to order drinks. James bought a beer with Carlos and the two sat together, taking large gulps and giving satisfied sighs. James looked around at everyone sitting at the table; being the only girl in their gang, Lucy was already beginning to chat with Stephanie and Camille, smiling and laughing together like they'd known each other all their lives. Girls were just funny like that, he guessed.

But soon enough, everyone was at ease with one another. James couldn't quite believe his ears as he heard Carlos cracking jokes with Wayne as they clinked their bottles together. The people who seemed the least at ease were probably himself and Jett . . . he needed some air.

Getting up, he stepped outside the door, where the windows were framed by ledges and a few small high tables stood around the door. The sky was darker now that evening was approaching, and he took a deep breath of the air, relaxing at last. He glanced to his right and suddenly saw Kendall sitting on a ledge. The brunet watched him for a moment as the blond stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it, hand cupped over it to shelter the flame. "Spare me one?" James asked at last.

Kendall looked up at him, nodding before reaching into his pocket, taking out the box of cigarettes and handing it over with the lighter. James lit one and gave them back, taking a long drag and sighing. Balancing it in his mouth and sitting down on the ledge, he look a look over at Kendall. The blond was holding his cigarette between his two fingers, lips puckering as he blew out a puff of smoke into the night air. The left side of his face was all studs, while the right side was bare; nose stud, lip ring, eyebrow stud and five piercings in his ear. There were five black Xs inked in along his hand, a tangled pattern of flowers and swirling lines over his forearm, and under his tank top James could see a couple of blue stars on his shoulder.

"So, how long have you been with Jett's gang?" James asked, taking another drag and tappin his foot softly off the ground.

"About six months," Kendall replied, finally turning to look at him properly. He had the most intense green eyes. James couldn't help gazing longingly into them for a moment before quickly shaking his head and snapping out of it.

"So I guess you've gotten accustomed to it now, huh?" James said with a smile.

Kendall shrugged, taking another drag, disinterest very visible. "Guess so."

James gave a little sigh, sitting there with his cigarette and figuring that he might not get very far with this one. He was too stubborn. He was totally resisting James' dazzling charm and his, of course, immense beauty. He was fucking gorgeous, this guy should've been begging for him already.

Suddenly he heard the door open and Logan and Jett walked out together, chuckling amongst themselves and glancing down at where the two were sitting. Instantly Jett's eyes flashed territorially, and James just rolled his eyes. Jett glanced at Kendall and held out his hand, and the blond instantly jumped to his feet, fumbling for his cigarettes and lighter and handing them to Jett with a sweet smile. Jett winked at him and lit up.

Logan carried two bottles of beer in his hand, taking a gulp from one and holding out the other. "Anyone want this?" he asked.

"I do," Kendall piped up, pressing the end of his cigarette into one of the table ashtrays, dumping the butt in with the ashes. "Give it here." He reached out for it, but Logan snatched it back and raised his eyebrows. James sighed and pressed his hand to his forehead, knowing some standard Logan snark was coming Kendall's way.

"How old are you anyway?" Logan asked with a smirk, holding the bottle away from Kendall. He gave him a look up and down before saying, "I don't think you're even old enough to drink."

"Fuck off and give it to me, would you?" Kendall snapped, reaching for it again.

"Chill, baby, here," Jett chuckled, arm around his shoulders as he handed him his drink. "You can have some of mine, I'm not like Grandpa over there."

Logan rolled his eyes, moving and sitting beside James, handing him the bottle he'd been teasing Kendall with and sipping his own drink. James watched Jett and Kendall stand together, talking and laughing and leaning very close together. He gave a sigh and sipped his drink, suddenly feeling Logan's eyes on him and turning to glance at the shorter man. Logan was smirking at him.

"What?" he asked silently, keeping his tone low.

"You need to chill is what," Logan chuckled. He glanced towards the other two men. "It's not happening."

"Oh yeah?" James looked at them too, before looking at the floor and clenching his bottle tighter. "We'll see about that."


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, close to noon, James found himself, along with Carlos and Logan, going to Jett's house to have a discussion about what they should do. Jett called it his house, but as he'd said to James, it was really the house he and his gang all lived in together. They were a very close knit group; James' gang didn't have that. It irritated him, but he firmly told himself it would end up as some fort of liability to them some day. Putting all their members in one basket, or something.

He knocked on the door, biting his lip nervously. The house was large and very nice; of course it would be, all the money Jett had to spend on it. However, many of the surrounding houses seemed to be empty. Not that it mattered, they probably loved the privacy anyway.

Stephanie was the one who answered the door. "Hey," she greeted cheerily, surprisingly friendly. "Everyone's upstairs, come on in." The three men followed her inside, and she led them across the massive hall to the stairs, and walked up. Carlos followed close behind her, and they began to chat casually between them. James rolled his eyes. Typical Carlos; went straight for the pretty girls without a second thought of anything stupid he might say. Poor guy.

The upstairs hallway was just as massive as downstairs, and they had put it to good use; it was decorated with couches, a coffee table, there was even a TV on the wall. This large square area branched off into a hallway leading down towards some of the bedrooms, while the rest were closer by. "Not a bad place to live, huh?" Logan said to James with a grin. "I'm a little jealous."

"Yeah, yeah," James said with a sigh, watching Logan throw himself down on the couch, where Wayne was sitting and watching reality TV, sipping from a can of diet coke. "Hey, where's Jett?" James called to him, and it took the other man a good half a minute to finally direct his attention away from the television and look at him.

"His bedroom is down there, the second on the right," he said, pointing down the hallway, a slight smirk on his lips. When James left, he caught a glimpse of Wayne leaning over to murmur something in Logan's ear. He found the right bedroom and he thought about knocking but figured hey, that was too polite. So he opened the door and strolled right in. He immediately stopped in the doorway and regretted that decision.

The first thing he saw was Jett's ass. It wasn't something he wanted to see. Jett was sprawled on the bed, hips moving fast and harshly, a body trapped under him, a pair of hands clinging to his back, the right hand inked with branches and flower buds. And the _sounds_. . .

"Hey," Jett exclaimed suddenly, looking at him, Kendall peering out from under him. James expected Jett to be mad, but he just laughed and said, "Dude, give us a minute, yeah? You know how it is."

"Sorry," was all James could say curtly, backing out of the room and shutting the door. A second after he did, Kendall squealed and laughed loudly, while back on the couches, Logan and Wayne were laughing too. James sighed and leaned back against the wall, folding his arms. This wasn't how he wanted this meeting to go. But _damn_ , that was half a hot sight.

True to his word, just over a minute later, the door to Jett's bedroom opened and Kendall walked out, a satisfied smile on his face. And, to James' alarm (but also pleasure) no clothes on his body. The blond, naked as the day he was born, strolled off across the hall and opened another bedroom door, stepping inside for a moment, before emerging again dressed in a large Minnesota Wild jersey and a little pair of briefs that James could just about see. Kendall walked down the hallway to the others, and James watched him the whole way, mouth agape.

"Hey, sorry about that, man," Jett chuckled, appearing beside him, dressed in sweatpants but no shirt. His abs had nothing on James'. "Like I said, you know how it is. Why don't we talk downstairs? I've got beer."

"Sure," James nodded with a shrug, and the two made their way back to the lounge area of the upstairs hall. Kendall was sitting sprawled on Wayne's lap, feet stretched out on Logan's. He didn't seem to mind in the slightest. He didn't even notice James walking by, eyes glued to the television screen.

"Baby, your new tattoo is really cute," James heard Wayne saying to Kendall, turning around and seeing the man's hand grazing over the tangle of vines doing a little loop around Kendall's upper right thigh. "Did Angel do that? She's great with these designs."

"Nah, Cormac did, he's really got an eye for colour," Kendall replied, hand dipping into the bowl of chips on the couch. "You know, I also got a new tat on my side, since the last time you saw me naked . . ."

James quickly followed Jett down the stairs, Kendall's sultry tone turning his cheeks red and causing his pants to get a little too tight for his liking. "S-so, uh," he said at last as he followed Jett into the massive kitchen, watching the older man open the refrigerator and take out two beers. "You and Kendall, hmm? Must be nice."

"I'm not following." Jett opened the two bottles and handed one to James, sitting at the counter on a high stool.

"Well, I just assumed you two were, you know, a thing or something?"

"Me and him? Not exactly. Thing is, dude, he works for me, but he's not a real member of my gang, get me?" Jett said with a chuckle. "I don't think that kid even knows how to handle a gun. But he's really sweet and he's pretty tough."

"Sweet? I didn't catch that."

"Well, I guess I know him a little better," Jett chuckled again, winking at him as he sipped his beer. "How should I put this . . .? He's like my escort."

"Your escort?" James echoed slowly, gripping his beer bottle a little tighter. "Like, your whore?"

"I think that's a little degrading, don't you? It's a well paid job and he's perfectly happy."

"And do the others . . . well, him and Wayne seem pretty cosy."

"Dude." Jett clinked their bottles together, his smirk and the mirth in his voice telling James that he didn't understand this whole concept at all and was making himself look like a total idiot. But his thirst for more information on Kendall was a little stronger than his pride right now; that was a first. "With the amount I pay him, he'd want to give it up for the other guys, wouldn't he?"

"I-I guess . . ."

"I'm telling you, it's an ideal lifestyle. I haven't fucked anybody else in six months and I don't even miss it. He's perfectly willing, like, all the time, and I'm pretty much guaranteed to stay clean. That wouldn't be the case if I was sleeping around. You should really consider it."

"I'm not sure I'm cut out for it," James admitted a little nervously. "But good for you, really. Must be great to have a live-in prostitute." Okay, maybe he said that last part a little too harshly, but he couldn't help himself.

Jett rolled his eyes. "Come on, let's just talk about what to do, alright?"

James sat beside Jett, and talk they did. They exchanged any information they had on the other gang which, even between them, was a shamefully small amount. All they had to go on were the locations where the bodies of their men had been found, and the logo of the gang. Neither of them had ever seen it before.

"What I think we should do," James said at last, his beer long gone. "Realistically, is that we should leave our message somewhere the bodies were found, either yours or mine. We don't know anywhere else they've been. I think that we should leave them a way to contact one of us, how does that sound?"

"That's a good idea," Jett agreed, seemingly quite pleased that James had thought of it, even if it was before he did. "We can get one of those prepaid cell phones and give them the number, that way it doesn't tie to either of us. I'll have Kendall go out and get one once he has a chance."

"He does your shopping too?" James asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"He's got an eye for a bargain! We used to take grocery shopping in shifts and some of those guys, I swear, they don't know the difference between apples and tomatoes. And they complain the whole way there and back. Anyways, I guess we're done with those plans for now. Wanna head back upstairs? You're welcome to hang out if you want to."

"You're very hospitable," James commented as the two left the kitchen. "I've gotta say, I wasn't expecting it."

"Look, James, I wanna protect my gang. They're my family. If we're gonna team up to fight them off we have to do it right, it can't be a half assed job. Half assed alliances don't get shit done. We've gotta be real, understand?"

"I guess I hadn't thought of that."

"That's because you don't think, period."

James scowled, but only grumbled and didn't say another word.

When James and Jett returned upstairs, Logan and Carlos were seated comfortably on either side of Stephanie and Camille, and Kendall and Wayne were nowhere to be seen. "Where'd they go?" James asked Logan, perching tentatively on the arm of the couch, while Jett sprawled in one of the nearby chairs.

"In there," Logan replied with a slight smirk, pointing towards one of the bedroom doors. James gave a sigh and nodded. He shouldn't have expected anything different.

About ten minutes later, Kendall and Wayne walked back out, Kendall still dressed in his skimpy outfit, but fixing his hair carefully with flushed cheeks and a wide smile on his face. Wayne looked equally satisfied, cheerfully walking downstairs and whistling as he went.

"Baby, c'mere," Jett beckoned, patting his leg, and Kendall walked over obediently and draped himself over his lap, arm on the back of the chair. "We were talking, James and me. I'm gonna need you to go get a cell phone for me, maybe tomorrow? Prepaid."

"Sure, I can do that. Anything else?"

"That's it. Thanks," Jett grinned, kissing his cheek, before glancing at James, a smug smile on his face, as if just to remind James for the millionth time what a great idea having a Kendall around the house was. James bit his lip, turning back to the television. It was definitely worth thinking about. But he didn't just want any, he wanted Kendall. He wasn't even quite sure why, there was just something about him that made him stick in James's mind. It wasn't his looks; to be brutally honest, he was hot but James had seen better. He had nothing on the kind of models from TV commercials.

Maybe it was his whole air of confidence, of acting like he knew all when really James knew he couldn't. Maybe that was it. Or maybe it was just because he couldn't have him. It was quite possible he was just being a big baby about this, screeching because someone else suddenly got a new toy he didn't have. Didn't want one until someone else got one. It was stupid, really.

But never had he expressed desire towards someone only to have it ignored. He would get what he wanted.


	4. Chapter 4

After an afternoon of socialising at Jett's gang's place, James was only too relieved to escape to the apartment Carlos and Logan shared. However, they had only been there about ten minutes before the rest of the gang barged in, eager to know what had taken place. And so, with weary eyes, James let them in on the plan, explaining to them about the prepaid cell phone and how they would wait to be contacted, rather than be assertive about it. It was a more peaceful way of approaching the situation. 

The gang stayed there without invitation, chattering loudly and cooking dinner together, watching TV or just sitting reading magazines. It was a house party he hadn't planned on having, and oddly enough, today he was just too tired to take part. But he did know he could do with a drink, and didn't feel like going home either. So he snuck over to where Logan was seeing how many Cheetos he could fit in his mouth without choking, and whispered in his ear, "I'm heading out. I need a quiet night." Logan acknowledged him with a wink, and James made his escape quickly before anyone else saw.

Once out, he wasn't quite sure on where to go. In the end, he decided on Palmwoods, his favourite bar. There was nothing particularly sunny about the place, despite the name. But they made great cocktails and the bartenders were always at the perfect level of eagerness to please. Grinning to himself, he set off. It was only around the corner from his apartment too; it was the perfect set up. The cheesy little light up sign on the door greeted him and he felt a sweet sense of comfort as he walked inside. 

However, what he didn't expect to see, or rather, who, was sitting right at the bar. Only the back of him was visible as he sipped his colourful cocktail; James wouldn't even half recognised him if it weren't for the branches inked over his hand, and the snake crawling up over his shoulder, visible under his tank top. Smirking, James strode over and sat beside him, catching him by surprise. "Didn't expect to see you here," he greeted, leaning his elbow on the bar. "You come here often?" 

Kendall rolled his eyes, but smiled at him and took another sip of his quarter full drink, twirling the straw around playfully with his tongue for a moment. He sat up straighter and replied, "I discovered it last week, actually. This sex on the beach is to  _die_  for." 

 _Sex on the beach? Where and when?_  However he managed to keep that remark from spilling out and instead said, "Don't you want to have drinks with all your friends?" 

"Don't you?" Kendall retorted, quirking an eyebrow, resting his chin on his hand. "Sometimes I enjoy my own company, as it happens." 

"Me too. The rest of mine are getting rowdy, didn't feel like joining in." 

"That's fair. So," Kendall turned to face him properly, picking up his cocktail and taking another sip. "Aren't you going to order anything?" 

"Hmm. Sure." James called one of the bartenders over. "I'll have what he's having," he told him, taking out his wallet and inclining his head towards Kendall. "And actually, his is almost gone so bring us two, yeah? On my tab." 

"Well, aren't you chivalrous," Kendall said drolly, sucking down the rest of his drink as James paid and they waited for their order to arrive. "Didn't think you had it in you. Can we smoke in here?"

"Nah," James pointed towards the 'No Smoking' sign. "Do you wanna pop outside?" 

"I'll live. Once my next round gets here I'm sure I'll forget about it. It'll be my third." 

Their cocktails arrived and James, ignoring the straw, gulped down three large mouthfuls of his, wiping his mouth afterwards and humming happily. Kendall laughed, copying his action, only swallowing a little more, without stopping. "Chill, chill," James said quickly, pushing the glass away from his mouth. "There's no rush. Is my company that unbearable? I just bought you a drink, after all." 

"Right, I didn't thank you, did I? Well, thanks." Kendall winked, twirling the straw around with the tip of his forefinger. "I tend to flee from men who buy me drinks. Once I've taken it with me, that is . . ." 

"Sneaky, I like it. Listen." James gulped down another large mouthful of his drink, taking a breath before asking daringly, "How would you feel about working for another gang?" 

"Excuse me?" Kendall's eyebrows rose. 

"I know you work for Jett and the others. Sounds like a neat setup, so I was thinking, I'd probably be willing to pay you more than he does. Name your salary." 

Kendall stared at him, mouth gaping. Then his mouth lit up in a grin. James grinned back, but then the blond shook his head, still smiling as he picked up his cocktail again. "I don't think so. Sorry, man." 

James sighed. "Why not?" 

"I like working for Jett. I'm comfortable there. Why would I move?" 

"Money?" 

"I'm hurt you'd think I'm that materialistic." 

"Okay . . . getting with the hottie you see before you?" 

"That arrogance is a major turnoff," Kendall teased, prodding his shoulder. "You're not that hot." 

"I beg to differ."

"Well, either way, my answer is no. Final answer." 

"Hmm." James was wondering if he should accept to defeat. He bit his lip, letting his eyes stray down Kendall's body, over his shoulders, his hands, his waist, his legs. And then slowly back up to his face, his eyes, his lips. ". . . How about one night?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Yeah. You know, a one night job, so to speak? You wouldn't turn that down, would you?" Breaking their eye contact for a moment, James opened his wallet and slowly drew out two hundred dollar bills, feeling Kendall's eyes following his hand intently. He placed the money down on the bar between them. He wasn't even a little bit shy about this. He wanted Kendall, he was loaded, he had nothing to lose. "How about it?" 

Biting his lip, Kendall picked up the money and flicked it between his fingers thoughtfully, silent for a moment or two. Then he put the money back down and, folding his arms on the bar, he turned to James with a smirk and said, "Add another fifty." 

James gave a sigh, nodding and opening his wallet again, placing the extra cash down. "Satisfied? What'll you buy with this much?" 

"Hmm, I'm not sure," Kendall giggled, taking the money and folding it up, sliding it carefully into the pocket of his ripped jeans. "I'll think about it while you're fucking me." 

"No you won't. You won't think of anything else but me," James retorted, quickly finishing his drink and watching Kendall do the same. "Trust me on that one. Follow me, kid." 

"Don't call me a kid," Kendall corrected tiredly, getting up and putting on his jacket, following James out of the bar. 

The two walked down the short stretch of street and around the corner, James trying to keep a cool head, when really he was probably more excited about sex than he had been in quite some time. He led Kendall inside his building and they rode the elevator up to his floor. 

The two of them didn't speak at all on their way to his apartment; it was actually pretty awkward. Kendall just leaned against the wall of the elevator, straightening up promptly when it came to a stop and following him out down the hallway. He walked with a casual air, as though this were an everyday occurrence for him. And who knew, maybe it was. James didn't know him well enough yet to be sure. 

They got to his place and biting his lip, he reached into his pocket for the key and unlocked the door. He pushed the door open and stepped aside. "After you," he said with a charming smile. Kendall rolled his eyes and strolled in, turning to watch James follow him in and switch on the light, shutting the door after him. "This place is nice," Kendall commented, looking around, eyebrows raised. "You really like to treat yourself, huh?" 

"I know how to live. Follow me, my room is just through here." James led Kendall across the living room and to his bedroom door, before opening it up and this time, stepping in first himself, turning on the light. His bed was messy from when he hadn't tidied it that morning, and the floor was littered with clothes and old magazines. He never really did clean up in there. 

They were barely in the room for ten seconds and Kendall was on him, finally giving him the attention he'd been craving. The blond turned James towards him and grabbed at his cheeks, kissing him hard on the mouth. The kiss was wet and sloppy and only lasted a few seconds, before Kendall shoved James a few steps backwards and took off his jacket and tank top. James watched him hungrily, eyes focusing on Kendall's skinny torso, his pale skin, blemished here and there with tattoos. On his chest his side, his shoulder. Of course, James had seen him naked before. But that had only been for less than a minute, and this was different anyway. This time he could not only see, but also touch. 

"Do you plan on taking your dick out at all, or are you just gonna stand there?" Kendall demanded, hands unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down his legs with his briefs, kicking them off with his shoes and socks. He stood back and folded his arms, waiting. Cheeks red, James nodded and quickly stripped himself of his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor right by Kendall's. Kendall gave him a quick look up and down, quirking an eyebrow with a little smirk before stepping closer, pressing their bodies together, and kissing him again. James kissed him back eagerly, arms wrapped tight around the blond. He groaned, gasping against his mouth when he felt Kendall's hand coil around his dick and begin to rub it up and down. "You're really good at that," he grunted, biting his lip hard.  

"I know," Kendall replied chirpily, grinning up at him. "I've also been told I'm a great kisser." 

"Well, I can second that." James took Kendall's hands and tugged him towards the bed, turning them and shoving him down. Maybe a little too roughly, but judging by the laugh and the little smirk Kendall gave him as he re-arranged his body with his head on the pillows, he obviously didn't mind too much. James crawled onto the bed and up to meet him, leaning down to kiss the blond again and holding himself up on his elbows. Kendall's hands slid over his back, gripping his shoulders and grinding his hips up. James groaned and returned the action, grabbing Kendall's thigh and lifting his leg up around his waist. 

"You have lube, don't you?" Kendall asked, tilting his head up to look him in the eyes. "You'd better." 

"Chill, feisty," James chuckled, reaching across to the nightstand, Kendall's leg coming with him and bending the blond in half. "It's in the top drawer." He opened it up and took it out, popping the tube open and squeezing some out onto his fingers. "You ready? It's gonna be pretty awesome." 

Kendall rolled his eyes. "Go for it, dude." That smug expression riled James up a little, unintentionally. Kendall's expression dropped and his mouth fell open in a gasp when he pressed two fingers in. Curling them, James smirked at he watched Kendall's face scrunch up as he moaned softly. James pumped his fingers in and out a few times, before slipping a third in. He knew Kendall could take it; he probably had a lot of experience. 

Just as he was thinking it, Kendall bit back his moans enough to snark up at him with flashing eyes, "Are you gonna give it to me or not?" 

James shook his head in disbelief, pulling his fingers back out and getting more lubricant. "You seriously are something else. Is anything you say serious, like ever?" 

"Does it bother you?" Kendall asked, pouting his lip. "I'm sorry."

"You're a snarky little shit." 

"And you're an arrogant butthole." Kendall smirked. "Checkmate." 

James laughed, shaking his head again and taking hold of Kendall's thigh again, gripping his dick with his other hand and sliding forward. "Sorry if I hurt you," he said idly. "It totally won't be intentional." And he slammed in. 

"Oh  _god_ ," Kendall cried out, eyes widening, then squeezing shut for a moment as James began to roll their hips together quickly. James kept their eyes connected as he fucked him, gripping his hips to keep him still. Once or twice Kendall's head bumped off the headboard and he either glared at James or smacked him on the back of his head. The rest of the time he dug his short bitten fingernails into James' back or tugged on his hair, which was before tonight, was something he didn't think he'd enjoy so much. Kendall was so tight around him, squeezing him just right, and those sounds he was making were a hell of a lot hotter now that James was the one causing them. As they began to kiss again, he felt Kendall's little tongue stud, felt his lip ring scrape at his mouth as he kissed him rougher. "I'm gonna make you come all over yourself," he growled, hand pumping Kendall's dick quickly as he bit down on his neck and fucked him harder. Kendall nodded, whimpered, gripped him tighter, right before letting out a cry and throwing his head back as he reached his climax, cum splattering out over James' hand, over Kendall's heaving stomach. One thrust later and James came too, forehead pressed hard against Kendall's, their lips touching for a moment, though they were both panting too harshly to kiss one another. 

At last, James regained a little bit of energy. He pulled out gently and lay down beside Kendall, head flopping down onto the pillows as he gave a tired sigh. He watched Kendall lie there with his eyes closed, chest billowing out at each heavy, slow breath he took. He reached a hand up to brush the sweaty hair off his forehead, then opened his eyes and giving James a sideways glance. "Having fun there?" 

"Sorry," James stuttered, cheeks turning red. Well, redder. 

"Got a towel or something? Nothing sucks ass more than dried cum on you." 

James nodded, quickly reaching to the floor, grabbing a stray towel and handing it to him. Kendall wiped himself down before tossing it back in James' face, chuckling when the brunet huffed and coughed indignantly, flinging it off onto the floor. He turned back to grin at Kendall, who grinned back, and for a moment, it was as though it was just the two of them, and nothing else mattered. It was a silly and cheesy thought, and it was sprung on him out of nowhere. Kendall wasn't speaking, just idly gazing around the room, at James, back around the room, back at James, at the ceiling. All James could look at was him. 

Until he opened that rude ass mouth again. 

"This place is disgusting," Kendall said suddenly, rolling out of bed and getting to his feet. He moved across the floor and swooped down towards the floor to pick up an armful of James' clothes and dumped them into his laundry hamper. He did this another two times. "I'm guessing these are all dirty, I'm not gonna smell them. Don't you ever clean up in here?"

 

"Well, usually the maid does, but she's on her day off," James joked, ducking when Kendall flung a pair of jeans at him. "I guess you're a little neat freak, who knew?"

 

"Don't sass me, mister. I just don't keep my room like a pig sty." Kendall flopped back down on the bed, naked body pale and smooth, other than the tattoos sticking out like sore thumbs here and there.

 

"Do you clean for Jett?" James asked, stupidly asking just because it might be one thing he had over him.

 

But Kendall nodded, "Yeah, sometimes. I don't mind. It's not a huge task for me, you know." 

"Yeah, still . . . you don't just feel like their servant?" 

"I knew what I was signing up for. It doesn't bother me in the slightest," Kendall replied breezily, stretching and folding his arms behind his head. "It gives me stuff to do, doesn't it? It's like a real working day, but easier." 

"I guess so." James rolled onto his side, supporting his head on his hand as he watched Kendall, letting his gaze wander up and down easily. His eyes locked on the different markings on Kendall's body, and before he could stop himself he asked, "What do your tattoos mean?" 

Kendall looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow. 

"I mean, if they mean anything, that is," James added with a grin and a shrug. "I was just curious." 

"Hmm . . ." Kendall lifted his right arm and glanced at it, before taking a glance down at his torso. "Honestly, most of them don't mean shit. I just liked them. But this one," he pointed to where the word Orphan was inked in tiny calligraphy over his left pectoral. "This one is me in a nutshell, I guess. I'm an orphan. If everyone had one word on them to describe who they were, this would be mine." 

"I'm sorry to hear that," James replied woefully. "My parents are still alive. At least, I think so. We don't talk anymore or anything, I have no idea where they are . . ." 

"Well, we have one thing in common," Kendall sighed, lifting a hand and taking a glance at his short bitten nails. 

"But, you said you—" 

"It's complicated. Okay, let's get this straight." Kendall rolled onto his side, facing him properly. There was a light in his eyes James had never seen before, a more defined hardness in his voice. "My mom died when I was little. Like, so little I barely even remember her face. And my dad left me in a park and didn't come back. So then I lived with this woman for a while, but she had to give me up. Then there was a foster home with some other kids for a few years. But then that went south, so I was sent to a banged up orphanage for rough kids. And I left there once I was old enough. So . . . yeah. Orphan." 

"Honestly, you sound more like a nomad to me," James said softly, though he couldn't help the wave of sympathy that he felt for Kendall. Just a few minutes of conversation, and he felt like he knew him so much better. There was so much more to him still undiscovered, but he was that one step closer. 

"I see your point . . . look, I've only been with Jett's gang for about six months. But they already feel like a family to me, a real one. One that I won't lose in the blink of an eye . . . I feel at home with Jett. He takes good care of me, you see?" 

"I see," James replied reluctantly. "I do understand, honestly. I guess I can't picture him having that kind of side to him."

"Well, you two only know the bad parts of each other, don't you? Otherwise you wouldn't be rivals. You'd get along like a house on fire." Kendall glanced at the clock, biting his lip and sitting up. "I should get going." 

"So soon?" 

"Sorry. This was fun though." Kendall smirked. "I was thinking during our little session that I might use some of that cash to get me some new shoes. The soles of these are fucking mangled." 

"Use it wisely," James chuckled, watching the blond hunt for his clothes and put them on. "And thanks for cleaning up my stuff." 

"I'm sure it'll all be back on the floor by tomorrow," Kendall said dismissively, pulling his shirt down over his head, fixing his hair and grabbing his jacket. "But you're welcome. I guess I'll see you at the next meeting?" 

"I guess so. See you around, kid." 

"Whatever, man," Kendall called to him from out of the room, and a moment later the apartment door slammed shut. 

The next morning, James woke up in a slight daze, still naked from the night before. Glancing at the clock on his dresser, he saw that in fact, morning was almost over; it was nearly noon. Hoping Carlos or Logan would be awake, he reached over for his cell phone and picked it up, deciding to go for the more likely option and dialling Carlos' number. Logan was a bitch to talk to in the mornings. The phone rang about three times, before his friend picked up and greeted chirpily,  _"Hey, man! We missed you last night!"_  

"Sorry about that. Hey, listen, Carlos . . ." 

 _"Sure, what is it?"_  

"I want to hire an escort." 

There was a pause on the other end.  _". . . an escort, huh?"_

"Yeah . . . can you line up some people for me? You can make that happen, right? You know people. I wanna make sure I get the right person." 

 _"Yeah, I can do that. Why the sudden change of heart, Jay?"_  

"Well . . . I kind of got a taste of one last night. And, hey, Jett and his men seem pretty fucking content, all the time . . ." 

 _"Okay, no more info needed, chill! Do you want me there with you when you pick one out?"_  

"Yeah, that would be great. You and Logan, maybe? You guys are both like my right hand men, and, well . . ." He couldn't help smirking. "They'll be for you too, you know." 

Carlos chuckled.  _"Understood. If I line some people up for this afternoon, is that okay?"_  

"Absolutely. Thanks, Carlos. See you later!" James hung up and lay back with a satisfied sigh. This was sure to be an improvement on things. 

When Carlos and Logan arrived, he'd showered and dressed, and even put a little effort into tidying up his room a bit more. He greeted them with cups of coffee and they all slumped down on the couch. "So, when are they getting here?" James asked Carlos eagerly. 

"I gave them all a different time, figured it would only take a few minutes to interview each of them," Carlos replied, sipping his drink. "That should be enough, right?" 

"Should be," James agreed. "It won't be too hard to see if I like or don't like them." 

"I've been told you got a 'taste' of one," Logan said with a smirk, glancing sideways at him. "Soon as Carlos told me, I figured. Who exactly is the cause of this new interest? As if I didn't know . . ." 

"Yeah, yeah." James rolled his eyes. "Kendall and I hooked up last night. We met out in town, and I could get him to sleep with me, but not to work for me, soo . . ." 

"Wow, you're really into him, huh?" Logan said in a slightly surprised tone, glancing at his watch. "Why?" 

"I'm not too sure. There are a lot of reasons."

A knock on the door startled them out of their conversation. Carlos quickly got to his feet and went to the apartment door, opening it and stepping aside, before kicking it shut after the first applicant walked in and slumped down into the chair by the door. 

"Hey, great to meet you," James greeted to the first person; a short, slightly curvy boy with shiny dark hair and a big smile. "You're pretty cute." 

"Thanks, honey," the guy replied with a wink, speaking in a southern drawl. "You're not so bad yourself." His eyes fell on Logan suddenly, and his eyes sparked. "Hello, handsome." 

Logan's cheeks turned bright red, and he gave a shy, wobbly smile.

"Uh, what's your name?" James asked quickly. "And age?" He, of course, wanted to check that they were legal. 

"Brad, twenty eight," the man said, eyes still on Logan with a smirk. He didn't look his age, but James admittedly wasn't too keen on him being that much older. He also wasn't keen at all on the way Brad was eyeing Logan so eagerly. "So, what way do you swing?" Brad asked Logan, biting his lip.

"I don't really have a preference, personally," Logan replied nervously.  

"Okay," James said impatiently, slamming his hands to his knees and standing up. "Look, Brad, I don't think the chemistry is right. You can go." 

"Already? But you didn't ask—"

"Didn't exactly give me a chance, didja? Out." 

Once Brad was ushered out and the door slammed in his face, James slumped back onto the couch with a sigh. "You didn't even ask him any questions," Carlos scolded. "What's with you?" 

"Didn't you see the way he was drooling all over Logan?" James demanded, jerking his thumb in the spiky-haired man's direction. "I'm not into that. I've gotta be their favourite, okay?" 

"I'll pretend that doesn't sound pathetic and childish," Logan mumbled, looking pretty pleased that he'd been the one favoured over James. 

"No, listen! Have you seen the way Kendall is all over Jett? You can tell how he looks up at him like a little puppy that he'd do anything for him. I want my escort to be like that with me." 

"So how come Kendall wouldn't work for you, anyway?" Carlos asked, fingers tapping on his knee.  

"He didn't wanna leave Jett. I offered him more money and everything!" 

"Huh, I guess not everybody can be bought, rich boy," Carlos teased. "Anyway, let's wait and see, I'm sure you'll get someone you like."

He ddin't. It seemed that James was destined to fail when it came to finding an adequate escort to replace Kendall. Everyone who arrived was rude, or disinterested, or just plain odd. It was truly disheartening, and he could feel himself starting to lose hope. Maybe he'd just set his standards too high, maybe that was the problem. He was too busy thinking about Kendall, too busy thinking about how much better it would be if he was the one to be hired. He was kicking himself a little that Jett had gotten to him first. Although deep down, James knew that if he had seen Kendall on the street in other circumstances, he probably wouldn't have given him a second glance. The interest, the mystery and whole distance surrounding him was really the biggest attraction. At least for now. 

"This is so hopeless," James groaned, hands tugging at his hair in desperation. "I'm never going to find anyone good enough!" 

"Don't worry, I'm sure one of them will be okay," Logan said comfortingly, patting him on the back. "But maybe you're just setting yourself too high a standard. What do you think, Carlos?" Carlos nodded in confirmation.

"I don't get what you guys mean . . ."

"Look, we know you're still thinking about Kendall," Carlos told him, a slightly sympathetic smile on his face. "I knew it the second you said you wanted an escort. Basically, you want a Kendall, and none of these people are him, so subconsciously or whatever, they're not good enough for you."

"In my defence," James argued stubbornly. "Some of them were fucking weird."

"That may be true, but that doesn't mean you're not setting that standard there for them, because you totally are." Giving a little sigh, Logan propped his feet up on the coffee table and leaned back. "Anyway, there should only be a couple of them left, let's get this done. What are you gonna do if none of them are right?"

"I don't know," James sighed. "I'll cross that bridge when I come to it, I guess."

It was the last person to come speak to him that finally perked James' interest. Admittedly, he didn't pay a whole lot of attention to what she was saying. "My name's Jo," she greeted with a cheeky grin, biting her glossed lip. She had pale skin and a great body. She was blonde; she had a little dimple in her cheek. Her eyebrows were much too dark for her hair. The only issue was her brown eyes; of course, they were pretty but not quite as devastating as green. But either way, she would certainly have to do.

"You're hired," James said suddenly, snapping out of his fantasies long enough to jump up and smile at her. Her face lit up. "I'm sure we'll be  _very_  happy together."

Jo giggled and winked at him, before letting him take her hand and tug her towards his bedroom. Carlos and Logan could let themselves out.


	5. Chapter 5

James liked Jo a lot. She had pretty hair, a beautiful smile, smooth and soft skin, big bright eyes and, of course, a sexy body. She was willing to do more or less anything he wanted her to, and was always ready with some sweet compliments to throw his way. He knew that he had her wrapped around his finger the way Jett had Kendall, and that was exactly what he'd hoped for. And the sex was great.  

However, he didn't have her living with him quite yet. She would arrive in the morning or afternoon and then leave late evening or even in the very early hours of the morning. He felt that he should have more time to get used to her before making a decision like that; he also wanted his own gang to get used to her too. After she'd been working for him for just less than a week, Jett called them all to his house for another meeting. This was the perfect opportunity to introduce her; if everything went well, then Jett's gang would like her just as much as he did. And they might finally be equal. And it would wipe that smug smile off Kendall's stupid face. 

Logan and Carlos told James they would bring the others to the house seeing as they knew where it was, and so James met Jo outside his building and the two went to Jett’s house together. When he arrived, Camille let him in. "Hey,” she greeted chirpily. "Some people are upstairs, some are in the living room. Who's this?"

"Oh, this is Jo," he announced proudly. "My gang's new escort." 

"Escort, huh?" Camille raised her eyebrows but didn't comment on the subject, smiling kindly at Jo and holding out her hand. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Camille." 

"Nice to meet you too!" Jo replied in a squeaky, overzealous voice as she shook Camille’s hand hardly, making her whole body shake. "Oh my gosh, I love your skirt! It's so gorgeous!" 

"Uh, thank you?" Camille replied uncertainly, smiling awkwardly before stepping backwards and giving them room to walk inside. As they did and she turned to walk to the kitchen, and James led Jo towards the stairs, the blonde suddenly whispered (albeit very loudly) to him, "Her skirt is _so_ fucking trashy." 

James' jaw dropped. Camille, turned having clearly heard, her jaw dropping too. James just dragged the oblivious Jo up the stairs as Camille shook her head in disbelief and disappeared into the kitchen. Hearing Jo say something so catty, so sneaky, it was the least expected thing possible. All he could do was hold his tongue and lead her into the upstairs living area. Logan and Steve were deep in conversation with Guitar Dude, Wayne and Dak, while Kendall sat watching TV with Ozzie. Glancing up and meeting his eyes, the blond gave him a brief smile, before his eyes moved to Jo and he frowned, mouth opening and shutting once in confusion. 

"Hey, guys," James announced, bring their attention to him. He continued, with a little less pride than before, though thankfully they wouldn't notice, "This is my new escort, Jo. Jo, this is everyone."

"Hi everyone!" Jo greeted with an enthusiastic wave, hurrying over and wedging herself in between Logan and Wayne on the couch. "It's _so_ great to meet all of you!" 

Eyebrows rose around the room, Ozzie leaning in to murmur something in Kendall's ear. Kendall listened carefully and the two spoke in low voices, disbelieving smiles on their faces. James, admittedly, expected some admiration when he brought her; he expected someone to be impressed. But it was so far from that, unbearably so. He slumped down in a free spot and decided to just watch the television, only hearing this mess unfold. 

You’re really cute, you know,” he heard Jo say flirtatiously, glancing out of the corner of his eye to see Jo’s hand, moving from Dak’s thigh to trail suggestively up his arm. 

“Look, that’s nice but we have our own escort so I’m all set, thanks,” the man stammered, turning his head away and swallowing nervously. 

“Oh really, who? That curly-haired chick?” 

Dak jerked his thumb towards where Kendall was sitting and sharing a bag of gummy worms with Ozzie. “Him?” Jo raised her eyebrows looking severely unimpressed. “Huh. Kind of raggedy, don’t you think?”

Logan stared at James with wide eyes, mouthing something at him that he wasn’t quite sure of, but judging by the shape of his mouth it looked like something along the lines of “What the fuck?” He did agree, privately. Thankfully Kendall either didn’t hear or just didn’t acknowledge what Jo had said. “He gets the job done,” Dak told her hardly, staring hard at the TV. “Now, if you don’t mind I’m watching TV.”

“Oh cool, what are you watching? I love shows like this . . .” 

Jo nattered on to Dak, and the other men too, James sighing in dismay and smacking his hand against his forehead. He stared hard at the TV and tried to focus on what was being said, but her voice cut through his subconscious like a knife, one of those broken jagged ones that wasn’t efficient enough to properly cut food but sharp enough to hurt. 

"Hey, you know what, I think I'm gonna go downstairs," Dak announced suddenly, jumping to his feet and clearing his throat awkwardly. "Y-yeah, haha, um, I think we have chips. Yep, I want chips . . ." 

"I'll go too, I want chips too," Logan said desperately, getting up and turning so fast he stumbled across the floor to the stairs. Steve and Wayne quickly followed suit, all the while talking eagerly about chips (which James knew for a fact that Steve didn't even _like_ ) and Ozzie jumped up and followed them too. Just as Dak was halfway down the stairs, Jo got up and chirpily announced, "I'll go too." And she followed them down, either disregarding or not noticing the hopeless and disappointed looks on the men's faces. Nonetheless, the group all walked down the stairs in low spirits, all except one. James was about to join them when suddenly a hand wrapped sharply around his wrist, and he turned to see Kendall looking at him. 

"Can I help you?" James asked tiredly. Saying nothing, Kendall tugged him backwards towards the narrower part of the hallway, where the two could face each other and lean against opposite walls. James just knew in his heart that he was going to make comments on the latest addition to their group. So he just stood there and waited for the blow. 

"Well," Kendall said at last, turning to James with a smirk on his face. "She seems . . . nice." 

James sighed, folding his arms. "She is nice. And she's sexy. That's all you need in an escort, right? That’s all you are." And in a last moment attempt to turn the conversation more in his favour he added on childishly, "In fact, _you're_ not even nice." 

"That really hurts me," Kendall sighed dramatically, back of his hand pressed to his forehead. "But, anyway, that's not where I was going with this. I was talking to Ozzie, and he pointed out something interesting to me. He was saying how similar Jo and I look." 

Oh, that's . . ." James looked around, wondering in vain if something was around to distract them from the situation at hand. Unfortunately he found nothing and just gave a feeble shrug, staring Kendall dead in the eyes and hoping he would drop it. ". . . interesting." 

"Uh huh." Kendall unfortunately, being the stubborn and arrogant little shit that he was, didn't drop it, and instead stroked his chin in mock thoughtfulness as he continued to speak in the same light, carefree tone. "Same hair colour, both pale as fuck, I'm pretty sure she had a dimple too. We're both skinny, she's about as flat chested as I am, no offence. So, what do you think?" 

"Welllll." James clicked his tongue, tongue wetting his lips briefly before trying to continue in a steady voice, "I guess you do look similar. But that's just a coincidence. People say I look like Matthew McConaughey." 

Okay, first," Kendall stuck his forefinger up in front of James' face, "you don't look like Matthew McConaughey. Second." He added the middle finger briefly for a moment, before dropping it again and poking James playfully on the chest. "It's not like you and him are running in the same small social circle, is it?" 

"I guess not . . ." 

It's a shame, though." Kendall moved his finger from James' chest to lightly tap him on the chin, moving closer to him in the process. "I've always thought he was kind of hot." 

"Oh, really?" James asked weakly, breath catching in his throat at their proximity to one another.  

"Of course." Kendall bit his lip and brushed some imaginary dust off James' shoulders. "I'd recommend hiring him next, if you have the chance." 

James watched Kendall's teeth pull lightly at his plump bottom lip, and remember how he'd looked doing that same thing when they spent the night together. Once that image materialised in his mind, more images just kept taking over. He thought of how Kendall's hair looked tossed around and sweaty, thought about how his green eyes looked dilated with lust, eyelids fluttering as his eyes opened wide and shut tight each time James pounded into him. When Kendall opened his mouth to speak again, maybe to ask him why he was just staring and hadn't said anything yet, he cut in sharply with, "Will do," unsurprised when his voice came out husky as he grabbed Kendall's arms and slammed him against the wall across from them, pinning his arms above his head and silencing his yelp of surprise hard, passionate kiss. For a moment their open moths pressed together and their tongues clashed. Then James pulled back, breath heavy, and gave Kendall space to move. The blond stared up at him for a moment with wide, slightly dilated eyes, before peeling himself off the wall and shaking his head as though to clear it. "Jeez," he breathed, rubbing the back of his head with a pained expression. "Give a guy some warming next time, will you?"

"Sorry," James replied, trying not to sound too sullen. "Um . . . I guess we should go join the others now." 

Kendall nodded and said nothing else, turning on his heels and walking briskly towards the stairs, walking down with his hand on the bannister. James walked behind him and they crossed the hall into the kitchen/living room. Almost everyone was sitting on the couches, Jo sitting between Lucy and Tad. Lucy wore an expression of boredom and annoyance on her face, while Tad seemed to flinch every time Jo's hand landed on his thigh, barely listening to her speak. James sighed as he watched them. Jett was standing at the stove cooking something and at the sound of Jo's loud laughter, he turned around and glanced in her direction, before rolling his eyes and turning back to his work. Kendall walked over to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pecking the side of his neck. James turned away from them and walked to where the others were, sitting down next to Lucy and asking, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer, "Hey, how's everyone doing?" 

Lucy glanced at him with one of the most hostile gazes he'd ever seen, answering his question for him. "Fine," Camille answered, trying to give him a reassuring smile. She didn't fool him for a moment. James bit his lip and looked at the floor, trying to block out the loudness of Jo's voice. It wasn't very effective. 

"James, James." James looked up as he heard the whisper, Lucy's mouth pressed close to his ear. He quirked an eyebrow at her in questioning, to which she added, "This really isn't working out. You know that, don't you?" 

James sighed. "I know . . . I just didn't think it could go wrong so fast, I guess." 

"Look, do what you have to. But, you know . . . do the best thing." 

James rolled his eyes. "Yeah, thanks Lucy." She smirked at him, before going back to her previous engagements. Hands clasped together, James leaned forwards, fingers pressed against his lips, and thought hard about what to do. These past few days had been great, sure, but in retrospect it had just been him and Jo. He didn't just have himself to think about, and it seemed like literally nobody in this room cared for her presence. Not the way they effortlessly put up with Kendall, treating him as though he were simply another gang member rather than some annoying whiny flirty— 

Okay, yeah. It was time to end this. It was okay while it lasted. 

"Jo," he called softly to her, catching her attention immediately. "Can I talk to you outside?" 

"Sure!" she replied chirpily, jumping to her feet and heading out immediately towards the hallway. Getting up reluctantly, James followed her out, knowing that everyone’s eyes were on him. He could feel them burning into his back. Once out in the hall, he shut the door to give them some privacy and at last turned to stand in front of Jo. She smiled up at him obliviously, poor thing. 

"Listen, Jo . . ." James took a deep breath. He bit his lip before wringing his hands and saying in as sympathetic a voice as he could, "This isn't really working out. The thing is, an important thing about an escort is that they need to get along with everyone and I, uh, I don't think the chemistry is right, I guess. Sorry." 

Jo's jaw dropped. "Are you fucking _kidding_ me?" 

"I’m sorry!" James said with a feeble shrug. "Sometimes these things just don't—" 

"Typical man, fucking asshole," Jo seethed, finger jabbing his chest accusingly. "Just fine fucking me and having me over every fucking day for it, but you can't keep me around longer than a week? Let me tell you something, I'd better get my week's payment, dickhead." 

"Alright, calm down," James grumbled, taking out his wallet. "Of course I'm paying you, what do you take me for?" Rifling through his wallet, he settled at taking out the bulk of its contents; six hundred dollars. He took her hand and pressed it into her palm. "This is all I've got, it's enough. Sorry it didn't work out." 

Jo snapped her fist shut around the money and turned on her heels, walking across the hall to the front door and opening it before turning again, flipping him off and storming out, slamming the door hard behind her. James sighed and pressed his hands against his face, sliding them down and dragging his face with them. At least that was over and done with now. Giving another long sigh he went back into the kitchen, glancing around. Jett was sitting at the counter and munching on his plate of what looked like French toast, while Kendall had moved over to the couches and was sitting on the floor leaning against Stephanie's legs, nose stuck in a book. Nothing else had changed, and so James moved back to where he'd been sitting and sat down instead where Jo had been sitting. 

As he did, Lucy glanced at him with a raised eyebrow in questioning and he responded with a small nod and a mournful, "It's done." Smiling sympathetically, she patted him on his knee and told him it was for the best, before turning away to continue her conversation with Dak. Only a minute later, Dirt Boy cautiously walked into the room and looked around slowly, checking every person sitting around and talking. At last he asked shyly, "Hey, where's Jo?" 

"She left, James fired her," Lucy answered cheerfully, the rest of the group trying to hide their joy behind solemn nods.

"Seriously?" Dirt Boy's face lit up and he collapsed into a nearby chair with relief. "Thank god, I thought she'd never leave me alone! I had to hide in the bathroom . . ." 

James gave another sigh. Yeah . . . it really was a decision for the best. 

"Kendall!" James looked up to see Kendall hurry over to where Jett was, only to get handed his dirty plate and ushered towards the sink. Kendall rolled his eyes but did as he asked, receiving a little peck on the cheek in gratitude. James looked back at the floor, unwilling to engage in conversation with anyone, when suddenly he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked up to see Jett standing above him. 

"Dude," the older man greeted, chuckling a little as he spoke, "I heard the door slam. Is that crazy girl really gone?" 

James hoped that at that moment, he made a face that truly showed just how done he was with this day. "Yes, Jett, she's gone." 

"Wow. Rough." 

"Uh huh." 

"Anyway, listen." Jett tugged James aside, closer to the counter and away from the couches. He grinned and clapped his hand on James' shoulder. "I had some of my guys out yesterday trying to search for any sign of somewhere this new gang are hanging out, and they think they've found a spot. And I have that cell phone we needed. I'm thinking today’s the day we get the ball rolling, what do you say?" 

"You seriously found a place?" James exclaimed in disbelief. "I thought we were just going to leave it where one of the bodies was found." 

"I know, but I figured if we could find a better location that would be a lot handier. And now we have, so all we have to do is go there, you and me, leave a phone number and sign our logos so they know who sent the message. Easy as pie." 

"I don't think I've ever made pie," James replied numbly. "Seriously, you have the paint and everything?" 

"Yup!" Jett chirped, popping the 'p' as he pointed towards a backpack tossed beside a kitchen cabinet. "I even got your colour, just for you, buddy." 

 _Buddy? Jett must really be happy about this._ "Well, thanks. I guess we should go now then, huh? Get it over with." 

"I was thinking the same thing." Jett walked over to where the backpack lay and picked it up, tossing it over one shoulder. "Let's get going?" 

"Yeah, let's go." James followed Jett towards the door, smiling to himself as he heard the calls of "Good luck!" from everyone in the living room. They really were great friends. The two left the house and walked accordingly towards the exit of the housing estate. They took a few turns until they were on a larger street, and only then did Jett begin to speak again. 

"I remember the directions they gave me," he announced proudly, walking briskly with his hands in his jacket pockets. "It's seven blocks away. Then we take a right, then a left and another right. Not too far away, we'll be there in no time." 

"Great," James replied gratefully, following Jett on the spoken route. "The sooner we get this done, the better. Hey . . . what do you think the other gang are like? I mean, they're bound to have a leader like us, do you think he's older?" 

"Not sure," Jett shrugged, face scrunched up in a thoughtful frown. "Maybe. One thing I can say, he's definitely not better looking than me. None of them are." 

"Well then, I definitely don't have to worry," James teased, prodding him on the shoulder. "Since I'm better looking than you, I'll have no problems." And he strolled ahead, laughing louder when he heard Jett's agonised and outraged cry of, "You are _not_ better looking than me!" 

This friendship may have been a nice change, but it was still nice to get a taste of how things used to be, and how they would probably inevitably be again when all this was over. They walked on down the seven blocks briskly, finally taking their right turn off the busy street and into a quite side street. Then they took their left down a dank alley littered with garbage. And their final right, which was an alley leading down to a cul de sac at the end, dumpsters pressed up against the side walls. "I think this is a good spot," Jett said at last, stopping at an area of wall close to the end while James looked around apprehensively. "Ready?" 

"Yeah, yeah of course," James answered with a determined nod, moving closer to the wall. "Here, I'll do the paint." 

"Got it." Jett opened up his backpack and fished out an aerosol can of black paint. "We can do the phone number with this." He handed the can to James before reaching in again and taking out the prepaid phone, tosses in a zip lock bag with all its information booklets. "I have the number here . . . aha! Okay, ready?" 

James shook the can and positioned it at a clear spot on the wall. "Ready!" Jett slowly called out each digit of the number and James sprayed them on carefully, making sure they were decipherable. After that he handed the can to Jett, who tossed it back into the bag along with the zip lock bag before taking out the can of blue paint and giving it to him, taking out a can of green for himself. Together the two sprayed their logos onto the wall, giving each other space and stepping back to take a look at the whole piece when it was done. "This should do nicely, I think," James said proudly, folding his arms and admiring their handiwork. "Good job, dude." 

You too!" Jett replied with a smile, zipping up his bag and tossing it over his shoulder. "Now, I think we should get out of here. Lingering isn't the smartest idea." 

"True, true. Let's get going." 

The two hurried out of the alleyway and reversed each of their turns until they were back on the busiest street. Once there they slowed down, comforted by the presence of other people and the abundance of vehicles. They walked in silence now for a few minutes, taking their time to bask in the satisfaction of their success, despite the fact that nothing had come of it yet.

"So listen, I was thinking," Jett said cheerfully to James as they walked side by side, hands in their pockets to hide their paint stained fingers. "We should go out tonight and celebrate, we’re finally getting somewhere with this whole mess. Ever been to Crush?" 

"Never, heard of it though," James replied, strolling along as their shoulders bumped together casually; before this whole affair began, any contact between them would have been hostile. "Do you guys go there often?" 

"When we feel like it, it's a great place to go nuts. You and your gang should come tonight!" 

"Um, well . . . okay, I wouldn't mind that." James grinned at the shorter man, distracted suddenly as his phone beeped with a text and he fished it out of his jeans pocket to take a look. "Oh, it's Logan. He says they've left your place, him and Carlos are going to look for a new table and Lucy and Tad are gonna go . . . duck? Oh, yeah, autocorrect gets the best of him at times . . ." 

Jett laughed. "That's fair, how about we meet up tonight, about eleven? We can meet outside Randy's bar, it's not far from Crush and it's not far from your place either. Sound good?"

"It does sound good. Oh, hold on." James sped up a bit as out of the corner of his eye, a bus pulled in at a stop just ahead of them. "This goes by my place, I think I'll just leave you here. See you tonight, man!" 

"Later," Jett called and waved as James got on the bus, handing over his change and taking a seat near the back. Jett headed home as the bus took off again, James leaning against the window with a little sigh. He hadn't been out in a long while, a few weeks at least; admittedly, he was looking forward to it a little bit. Jett's guys were fun, his guys were fun, drinking was fun. It all added up pretty nicely. Taking his phone out of his pocket again, he sent out a group message to let the others know of their plans, before putting it away again. Once the bus came to his stop, he walked off and took a sharp left down the road towards the door of his building. Once inside his apartment, he walked into his bedroom and flung himself on the bed with a sigh, shutting his eyes for a few minutes. The bed still smelled a little of sex, so he got up and ripped the sheets off, tossing them into his laundry hamper. When he would actually wash them was unknown, but he had spare sheets so it wasn't too much of a problem. In the last few days he actually had been making an effort to keep his room clean and tidy. It was going well enough considering who he was, it could've been a lot worse. 

Afterwards he took a long shower to unwind and scrub himself clean for their outing. At least he kept himself clean and tidy. And drop dead gorgeous, of course. 

* * *

 

James went to Randy's bar at eleven as requested, seeing that Logan, the most punctual person on the planet and Carlos, the least punctual, were already there. Soon after Steve and Dirt Boy arrived, then Jett and his gang, and finally Tad and Lucy. Immediately the girls banded together exchanging giggles and compliments to each other's makeup and outfits, while the men ushered them along the sidewalk so that they could move on with their night. Jett led the way, two blocks down and around a corner to Crush, where a small line was gathered outside the door waiting to be let in by the bouncer. 

As they approached James found himself standing close to Kendall, who was dressed in tight black jeans ripped down both legs and a graphic tee. "Evening, blonde," he greeted, bumping their shoulders together lightly. "Nice pants, did you shred them yourself?" 

"Nah dude, they're pre shredded," Kendall replied with a wink. "Real high street stuff, I purchase only the best. Sophistication is key." 

"Saying those pants are sophisticated is like saying the same about a hooker," James joked, chuckling before reaching a false realisation. "Hey wait a minute, aren't you . . .!" 

"Your humour is just out of this world," Kendall replied drolly with a roll of his eyes. "You're not even sophisticated enough to be a hooker. Biatch." 

"Well, you're not even old enough to go clubbing," James retorted, rolling his eyes and folding his arms. 

"You're right!" Kendall's jaw dropped, hands clapping to his cheeks dramatically. "I don't know what I was thinking. If only there was some way to trick people into believing I was old enough, by changing my age by a couple of years on one of those card things. What are they called again . . .?" 

"Alright, shut the fuck up," James grumbled, scowling and turning away. Kendall smirked and Jett chuckled, wrapping his arms around Kendall's waist and hugging him tight enough to lift him off his feet. Crushed under the strength of his arms, the blond huffed and smacked him on the chest to get let down. But it was clear he didn't mind it too much. The two stood side by side and moved up the queue together towards the bouncer, while James stood behind them and behind him, Carlos and Logan stood with Camille and Stephanie chatting and laughing. James sighed and moved up the line towards the bouncer slowly; the rest of the gangs stood at the front of the group and the man barely glanced at them before waving them through. He briefly stopped Kendall and Jett to check their IDs, and James' too, and the three of them walked through the front doors inside the club. 

Instantly the faint sounds of chatter and car engines, dark evening sky brightened by streetlights turned to utter darkness lit up sharply by flashing lights, the music thumping in their heads and hearts, the song playing just about audible over the throbbing base. They walked down the few steps towards the rest of the club; the entire middle and right side was simply a dance floor, while on the left there was a bar and some tables and chairs. Jett turned to the group, grinning. "We’re here to celebrate," he yelled to the others, looking around at them. "So let's do it!" 

The group cheered and with that, all began to disperse into smaller groups. Logan and Carlos headed off with the girls, while Jett and Wayne walked across the floor to greet some man James didn't know. He looked around and wondered where he should go and what he should do. He then spotted Kendall heading straight towards the bar, and decided to follow suit. He walked over, just as Kendall called a bartender over and ordered a drink. "Let me get that for you," he offered to announce his arrival, leaning casually on the bar and smiling at him. 

"I'm not sure you should," Kendall replied, turning his head towards him, tilting it cutely and lightly drumming his fingers on the bar. "Last time you bought me a drink, we slept together. I’m not in the mood for that tonight." 

"It’s just a gesture of friendship, promise," James chuckled, linking their pinky fingers together for a moment before turning and calling the bartender over. "I’ll pay for his drink, and I’ll get a beer. Thanks." They received their drinks and handed the money over, James taking a long gulp of his beer and letting out a relieved sigh. 

"You must be happy that all this is finally moving," he said at last, watching Kendall take a few gulps of his sweet blue alcopop; personally he'd never been a fan of those drinks that were nearly more sugar than alcohol. Then he watched Kendall reach towards another bartender, slip him some money, and get handed a small glass a few seconds later. He watched him pour this new drink into his bottle, waving the bottle lightly in circles to stir it. "What is that?" 

"It's vodka," Kendall told him, taking another smaller drink and scrunching up his face in disgust. "It's fucking gross but it does the job. And yeah, I am happy. It's all been such a pain in the ass, right?"

"Oh, definitely," James nodded, glancing out at the crowds of people and taking another sip of his drink. "I mean, this alliance stuff isn't as hard or as painful as I thought it would be but the constant worrying about what'll happen is really—" 

"James, come _on_ ," Kendall groaned, waving his hand in his face and shaking his head frantically. "We're not here to talk about work; we're here to have fun. Let's go dance." With that, he reached out and grabbed James' free hand, leading him freely into the throng of clubbers. James followed him dumbly, gripping his drink tightly in his hand. Settling on a nice spot, Kendall let go of his hand and turned to face him, giving a cheeky grin before he waved his drink in the air with a whoop and a laugh, thumb pressed over the bottle mouth to keep it safe, and began to dance. 

Normally when people danced in a club, they were divided up into a few smaller categories. Some danced crazily and out of time, swinging their arms and legs wildly and roaring with laughter, no intention of take a moment of it seriously. Some danced solely to please themselves or others, grinding their hips, offering sultry gazes and when the opportunity arose, making a grab at some unsuspecting stranger to urge them to join in. Kendall didn't dance like either of those. He tossed his hair, he swayed, he waved his bottle-wielding hand, he spun around, he jumped at the more upbeat parts and laughed all the while. He was tall and gangly and lacked any form of grace, but it was clear he was simply in it for the fun. Such an infectious attitude drove James to join in with him, even though he wasn't much of a comfortable dancer himself. 

Of course, as a child he had taken a few dance classes and had been, if he did say so himself, pretty skilled with it. But this dancing was different, nobody was here to be professional, to be neat and tidy with their steps and sometimes he just found that difficult to get behind. And so, taking another two swigs of his drink, he decided to try and copy the kind of moves Kendall was making, and when he couldn't, to just stand and watch him.  

"You're fun to dance with!" Kendall said suddenly, clinking their bottles together with a grin as they both took a sip. "The others, not so much." 

"Oh, really?" James quirked an eyebrow. _Yes. Finally._  

"Yeah. I mean, Guitar Dude is fun to dance with, and the girls. The other guys, not so much." Kendall continued to sway absent-mindedly as his face crinkled in disgust. "They all think they're too _cool_." 

Now, of course, James was torn between staying silent and accepting the compliment, and protesting that he, too, was cool. He chose the first option and continued to dance, cheekily bumping hips with Kendall and making him stumble and chuckle. This was a fun night. It really was. 

"Oh my god guys, hi!! I just love this song!" 

Carlos suddenly burst into their space, laughing hysterically as he threw his arms around their necks and yanked them close to him. "It's fucking amazing, let's dance!!" 

"I'm gonna need some breathing space, dude," Kendall protested with a smile, prying Carlos' arm off his shoulders. "What's up with your eyes?" 

Frowning, James grabbed Carlos by the chin and turned the short man to face him. His pupils were dilated massively, his gaze a little unfocused as he squirmed out of James' hold. "What the hell did you take?" he demanded disapprovingly. It was important to note that James was not one of those leaders who felt the need to boss everyone around, and dictate what they took to have fun or what they did to have fun. But Carlos was always an exception; he was already accident prone enough on a daily basis. To let him loose on any unknown substance was like, to use an old saying, letting a bull loose in a china shop. Only in this instance, the bull was Carlos, but the China was also Carlos. A disaster waiting to happen. 

"I dunno," Carlos roared back with an exaggerating shrug. "I got it from him!" And he pointed across the room to where Jett and Wayne were still standing and talking to that stranger. James sighed. Of course he did. "Dance with me!" Carlos shrieked, shoving Kendall out of the way before grabbing James' hands and beginning to spin around wildly. James stumbled across the floor as they built up speed, head beginning to spin too. Then suddenly Carlos let him go and he flew backwards, falling against a group of girls. The girls shrieked and grabbed each other to try and stay balanced on their stiletto heels as he got back to his feet, rubbing his head. 

"I'm so sorry!" he said to them, pointing towards Carlos, who was now jumping off into the crowd, probably in search of someone else to bother. The girls went back to their dancing and James returned to where he and Kendall had been dancing. However, when he got there, he realised that he was nowhere to be found. He looked around, trying to spot his blond hair amongst the dancers. And then he did spot him; standing with Jett and Wayne just as he held out his hand to the stranger, received something from him and pecked his cheek before shoving it into his mouth. James sighed, turning away and twisting his bottle around between his fingers. It was tempting to go over and join in, if they didn't refuse Carlos they would hardly refuse him. But he didn't make a move to do so; instead he slumped into a chair close to the door and placed his beer on the table in front of him. 

He began to think about what would happen after tonight. Sure, maybe finally getting things moving was a good reason to celebrate, but what would happen now? Anything that happened next was in the hands of the new gang, the men who had killed Tyler and TJ just to announce their presence. Maybe they wouldn't even make the call, maybe they would have no interest in negotiations. What if the moment they stepped out of this club, they were all killed for having the audacity to walk into their territory? It was all enough to make his head spin; he sat and nursed his beer and tried to stay positive. But the room was starting to look a lot darker, and the laughter was starting to sound more like screams. 

Occasionally someone would come and make a move on him, asking him to dance or offering to buy him a drink, but he always shook his head. He wasn't surprised by the attention, he was a good looking guy, of course. He just really wasn't in the mood to party anymore. He couldn't understand how it all went so wrong so fast. 

"I need a cigarette," James mumbled to himself at last, getting up and leaving his empty bottle on the table, heading out the door. He stopped just right of the doorway, nodding curtly to the bouncer before fishing his lighter and box of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He was just lighting up when he suddenly heard Kendall's voice. 

He turned to the right and saw him standing a small distance away at the edge of the sidewalk, just before a parked police car. He was engaging in animated and partly one-sided conversation with a group of women getting ready to go inside the club. He jumped from topic to topic flimsily, from how great the music was to how wonderful the stars (streetlights) looked to how beautiful their hair was, how did they get it that gorgeous brown colour?! The women listened to his venting, laughed and smiled when appropriate and treated him with the utmost politeness. But they moved on as soon as they had the chance, heading towards the bouncer and producing their IDs. Now Kendall stood alone on the sidewalk and swayed to what he could hear of the club's music. Now and then his body jerked awkwardly, eyes closed as he swayed and danced almost like a ghost.

It happened quite suddenly, that the door of the patrol car behind him opened and out came a police officer, watching Kendall suspiciously and stopping in front of him. "Sir, are you feeling alright?" 

The blond turned towards him, eyes opening and widening comically. And he said the last thing (though considering the circumstances he shouldn't have been surprised) James expected to hear. "Oh my god, you're a sexy cop!" Kendall roared, squealing with laughter as he grasped at the police officer's shirt collar. "But it's not Halloween! That's so fucking weird!" 

"Sir, sir." The man tried to pry Kendall's hands off him, James watching with wide eyes and a gaping mouth as Kendall began to take this as an initiative to dance with the cop, pressing his body tight against his as he swayed to the faint thumping of the music from the club. "Sir!" the cop snapped, pushing Kendall back from him. "Have you been taking any illegal substances?" 

"Oh my _god_ ," Kendall screamed. James clapped a hand to his forehead in dismay as Kendall went for the face this time, grasping the man's cheeks. "Your eyes are changing colours!" 

Taking a deep drag of his cigarette, James watched the trainwreck in front of him with more amusement now than distress. Obviously drugged up dancing on a police officer wasn't recommended street etiquette, but it was pretty entertaining, watching how the officer struggled to deal with Kendall's advances, face turning red and sweaty as his voice rose in frustration. 

"Sir, if you don't stop touching me I'll have to take action!" he protested desperately, flustered as he tried to push Kendall off him again. This time Kendall let him, right before his eyes widened and he stared at the squad car behind him, reaching out to touch it and falling flat against his chest in the process. "Alright, that's it." 

And so James was forced to watch in bewilderment and slight amusement as an agitated, embarrassed and irked police officer did at last arrest Kendall, possibly pressing him up against the car a little harder than necessary as he cuffed him before shoving him in the backseat of the car. He watched the car drive away and gave a feeble sigh. Well, now that? Realistically, the most logical thing to do was to go inside and tell Jett, then Jett could go pick Kendall up and bring him home. 

Or, there was another option . . . he could go pick Kendall up himself. He started to smile to himself at the prospect. It was a nice idea; maybe then Kendall would be a little more well-mannered to him for a change. He knew where the nearest station was, and they were bound to be there. He hadn't had much to drink; his head had been too full of gang affairs to bother. But now it meant he could find his way to the station easily and could also give coherent reasons to the police at the station to let Kendall go. Yes, it would work out perfectly. Chuckling, he quoted his jacket up to the throat, dropped his cigarette on the ground and rubbed the smoking end into the ground with his toe before heading off down the street, hands in his pocket. He even whistled a little tune as he walked.


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey, evening," James greeted cheerfully to the man at the front desk, offering a charming smile and casually leaning his elbows on the desk, speaking through the hole in the window. "Listen, I think a friend of mine might have been brought in here a while ago. We were out at Crush, you know, a few blocks down, and I saw him get picked up in a patrol car. His name's Kendall Knight, blond, skinny, tall—"

"I know the one," the man cut in, eyes half shut as he rested his stubbly chin in his hand. "He came in here high on something, that have anything to do with you?" 

"No, no," James said quickly, shaking his head and chuckling. "Of course not, officer, I wasn't with him when he took that. Listen, since he hasn't really done anything wrong I was wondering if I could just take him home? I'll make sure he doesn't bother anyone." 

"He's been bothering  _us_ ," the man replied drolly. "Kept singing and screeching until he crashed, the silence has never been more welcomed." 

"Rrrright, well, sorry about that. But as I was saying, I'll make sure he's well behaved and get him home safely, take him off your hands. Would that be okay?" He flashed another charming grin, hoping that this one would seal the deal. 

It seemed to, as the man sighed and stood up, moving out from the desk and towards a large door. "Wait here." He opened the door and disappeared, shutting it behind him. James sighed, bouncing on his heels and looking around the room absent-mindedly, before wandering to a nearby waiting chair and sitting down, yawning, hands folded neatly on his lap. He took out his phone and sent Logan a quick text, letting him know he'd gone home early. He slipped his phone back into his pocket and folded his arms, slumping down in the chair and waiting patiently.  

He was sitting there for maybe ten minutes or so, when the door opened again and the policeman emerged, walking with Kendall and holding him by the arm. The blond had droopy eyes and walked with a slouch, rubbing at his eye lazily and trying to fix his hair. "Don't make us drag you back in here again," the man said sternly. When Kendall just hummed and gave a vague nod, he was nudged in James' direction and plodded over sleepily. "Safe trip home." 

"Thanks, sir!" James called cheerily, waving to him before putting his arm around Kendall's waist and guiding him out of the station. "Goodnight!" 

The two walked out of the station and down the street, Kendall leaning on James' shoulders with shut eyes. He gave a weak groan at one point, trying to straighten up, knees shaking. "I think you could use a cup of coffee, maybe a snack, how does that sound?" James offered, brushing his blond hair out of his eyes tenderly. 

"Not hungry," Kendall mumbled, managing to straighten up at last as they came to a stop outside a diner with its lights still open and a few customers inside.  

"Just coffee then? I'll get some to go from here, how about it?" 

Kendall nodded, mouth upturning into a small smile, though it didn't seem to have any life in it. He was just doing it for the sake of it, really. Either way, James led Kendall into the diner and ordered a takeaway coffee from one of the two waitresses. Once he paid and received the drink he pressed the cup into Kendall's hand, and the two left the diner again. Once outside in the street, Kendall threw his head back and took a large gulp, winging and coughing as he did, back hunched over. "It's way too hot, don't do that!" James scolded, patting him on the back. "You'll burn your tongue off." 

"It's so fucking bitter," Kendall gagged, but took another two long gulps of it anyway.  

"Didn't know you take sugar . . ." 

"You can have the rest," Kendall muttered, though he was already much more alert as he shoved the drink into James' hand, blinking rapidly a few times and straightening up fully at last, no longer needing to walk with support of James' arm.  

"Jeez, you're welcome," James retorted with a roll of his eyes, taking a few sips himself before tossing it in a nearby trash can. "I could've left you in that cell, you know." 

"Yeah, well, they would've let me make a call eventually," Kendall snapped, walking huffily with his arms folded tight against his chest.

"Oh yeah, and who do you think would've answered?" James said angrily. "They're all out partying, chances are you would've had to spend the whole night in there!" 

"Whatever man, do you want me to kiss your fucking feet?" Kendall jeered at him, flipping him off as he walked backwards in front of him. 

"You are such a little bitch, you know that?" James seethed, striding towards him and forcing him to stop; if he sped up, instead he probably would've fallen onto his ass. "I helped you out and you're just being rude as usual, I thought this would make things better." 

"Better than what? What exactly are you looking for here?" 

"God dammit, Kendall, I was looking for some development here!" James yelled, throwing his hands in the air in frustration. "B-because I—" He saw Kendall's eyes drifting away, getting distracted by a cat across the street and so he grabbed him by the cheeks in a fit of irrational anger. Thankfully it ebbed away again as Kendall's gaze returned to him and he met those wide, vivid green eyes. He already found himself calming slightly as he said, albeit in extreme nervousness, "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you, and I don't even know why. I just wanted you to end up a little more on the same page as me, and maybe just . . . like me too." When Kendall just stared at him and said nothing, James chose to just go the extra mile and tugged him that little bit closer.  _I've got nothing else to lose_ , he thought helplessly as he kissed the blond. 

He felt Kendall's hands on his wrists and thought he might pull away, but he didn't. Their lips moved together slowly, gently, and when James pulled away at last he knew that this kiss had been different from any that one night they hooked up. It held emotion, and passion, and honesty. Kendall was gaping at him, chest heaving, and he at last murmured shakily, "Shit." 

James laughed weakly, knowing it was the best he could come up with right now. "I know, right?"

"Do you mean it?" 

"Of course. It's hard enough to say it out loud, I wouldn't just say shit like that for fun. My knees are still shaking." 

"I see that. If I kissed you again would that make it better?" 

"Probably the opposite. I'm okay with that, do it anyway."

After four more long, blissfully long kisses standing together on the sidewalk, with cars passing, one or two honking their horns as they did so, the two finally pulled apart again, breath hard and heavy with want as their eyes locked. "Do you wanna go somewhere?" James asked at last, licking his bottom lip and trying not to blink; Kendall didn't seem to be. 

"Yes," Kendall replied bluntly, taking his hand. "Back to your place." 

And James was completely fine with that. 

The two walked hand in hand down the quiet street, walking close together in the cool night air. James led Kendall the way to his building, knowing he wouldn't be able to get there otherwise. At some point, when they were only a block away, James found himself playing idly with Kendall's fingers; his skin was rough and he had short bitten fingernails. But his hand was slim and small and felt right in his, and so he smiled to himself as the two walked inside his building and to the elevator. Stepping inside, James pressed the button and instead of standing on the opposite side like last time, Kendall stood close to him, leaning against the wall and taking out his phone. 

What are you doing?" James asked, watching Kendall tap rapidly on his phone, thumbs flying across the keyboard. He'd never been a very fast texter himself. 

"Telling Jett I'm staying at my friend Andrew's," Kendall replied, eyes on his phone screen. "I know he won't see it til morning but it's better than him freaking out on me. It's where I told him I was last time I was here." He put his phone away. "With this new gang around he doesn't like me going out on my own, but he trusts Andrew. He's who I stayed with when I left the children's home." 

"Oh." James wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He settled with, "Well, that's good, that you still have friends from that part of your life. It's good not to forget, and stuff . . . yeah." 

"Uh huh. But I don't want to talk about that tonight," Kendall added firmly, as the elevator doors slid open. He walked past James and took the lead walking to his apartment, James hurrying eagerly after him. The two reached the door and James unlocked it, nudging Kendall gently inside and shutting and locking the door after them. He didn't bother turning the other lights on, taking Kendall's hand to guide him through the apartment straight to his bedroom, pulling him in before turning on the light. The curtains were drawn from earlier so he didn't even have to worry about that, kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket, tossing it carelessly to the floor. 

"I see you're making an effort to be cleaner," Kendall said drolly, eyeing him disapprovingly even as he did the same thing. He kicked his shoes aside and hopped over his jacket, landing closer to James and sliding his hands up through his hair, dragging him in for a rough kiss. Even now, despite it being filled with lust, there was still that hidden vulnerability underneath. There was more to their kisses now; maybe one of them hadn't even said a word about it yet, but he didn't really need to. Not yet, at least. James would wait as long as he wanted. 

James tugged Kendall's T-shirt upwards, but could only lift it as far as his armpits because Kendall was busy unbuttoning his grey shirt rapidly, hands touching his chest, fingers brushing over his nipples, making him groan in pleasure and arch towards him. Once his shirt was unbuttoned all the way down he shrugged it off, and watched Kendall take off his T-shirt and eagerly watch James tug off his jeans and undewear, giving his dick a few tugs to bring it to full erectness. "I'm really appreciating it this time around," Kendall admitted bashfully, eyes straying from James' crotch to his face, cheeks flushed red. 

"Glad to hear it." James tugged Kendall flat against him by his belt loops, fingers fumbling as he unbuckled his belt and opened his tight ripped jeans, tugging them down his slim thighs with his underwear and falling to his knees as he slowly pressed little kisses along Kendall's flat tummy, over his hipbone, down his thigh, and inward towards his cock. Kendall whimpered and tugged hard at his hair, directing his head closer to his crotch and throwing his head back with a cry as James' lips wrapped around his cock, sucking and dipping down, hand moving to rub what wasn't in his mouth. "Fuck," he whined, hips stuttering, hands yanking at James' soft hair. "You're really good at that." 

James grunted, almost a laugh, as he pulled off and tugged Kendall's hands carefully out of his hair. Feeling him pull at it was hot until it felt as though it were being torn off at the roots. He wouldn't go voluntarily bald for anyone. "Thanks," he said with a  cocky grin, glancing up at him. "If you want I can show you more of those skills later, but right now . . ." And he jumped to his feet, arms encircling Kendall's waist before he grabbed both his ass cheeks, hoisting him upwards. Squeaking, Kendall leaped up on instinct and clung to James' shoulders, arms going around his neck, legs around his waist as James held him tight in his arms. "You're heavy, wow," James fake huffed, laughing when Kendall lightly smacked him on the back of the head. "I'm kidding. You're like a little feather. So light and fluffy . . ." 

"That's what I like to hear," Kendall said haughtily, pointing towards the bed. "Come on now, let's get to it." 

"Yessir!" James chirped, kneeling on the bed, Kendall still tangled around him before lowering them both until the blond's back hit the mattress. Once there he unwound his legs and instead let them rest on his lips loosely, dragging James in for a hungry, desperate kiss, teeth bumping against his, lightly tugging at his bottom lip and gazing up at him with sultry eyes. James slid his lips down Kendall's cheek to his neck, kissing, licking, biting down his chest, hand wandering between his legs, past his cock and to his entrance, tapping and rubbing it lightly, just dipping the tip of his finger in and withdrawing. Kendall was writhing against him, chest arched so close to his their skin touched, thighs quivering.

"Take me," Kendall gasped, trembling, hands clawing at James' naked back. "Oh god . . . fuck me,  _now_." 

* * *

 James woke up slowly, eyes blinking in a daze as he yawned and stretched his stiff muscles. Thankfully there was little light to adjust his eyes to, the curtains of his room still shut. As he stretched he felt the cracking of dried cum on his chest and abdomen and it felt absolutely disgusting. But it did remind him of the previous night's events, and that brought a wide, goofy grin to his face. It was then he realised he heard soft snoring beside him, and turned his head to see Kendall splayed out on his belly, cheek pressed to the pillow, mouth half open, hair a tangled mess atop his head. As he looked closer he was pretty sure there was a little wet stain of drool on the pillow by his open mouth. Which should've been disgusting to him, really, but instead he just found it adorable. The blanket over them was half tangled around Kendall's waist, his naked back smooth, dotted with some freckles on the backs of his shoulders and one of his tattoos, a dark silvery snake, curling from his back over his shoulder.

Three times they'd had sex the previous night. It was incredible, he still felt elated at the memory. After that first time, the two collapsed on the bed, sweaty and breathless, legs tangled in the sheets and in each other's, faces touching as they let their hands wander lazily down each other' bodies. And only a few minutes later, the desire for more became too much for them both, and they went at it again. That second time left them utterly spent, thrown back on the dirty sheets, hair tangled into unruly messes (and clotted here and there with cum, grossly). His mind buzzed at the vivid image of their third time, almost an hour later, after they'd both had a beer or two and giggled between moans and curses of each other's names. Kendall rode him that time, sprawled on top of him with his hands leaving pale prints on his chest, he was pressing so hard. And finally, the two rolled apart and allowed themselves to sleep. And what a wonderful sleep it was.

He sleepily lifted his hand and picked his phone up off the dresser, bursting into soft laughter when he saw it was already past 1pm. He also saw he had a couple of texts from Logan, some he imagined were drunk texts judging by the amount of misspellings. Logan was normally one to obsess over immaculate grammar and spelling, so clearly he wasn't himself. He chuckled as he read through them, rolling his eyes at one that called him boring for missing all the fun.  _Well, joke's on you Logan. I had my own fun. And it was a hell of a lot better than yours, I'm sure._

With the sudden urge to go to the bathroom, James heaved himself out of bed with a grown, joints cracking as he took a long stretch. He wandered out and down the hall into the bathroom, deciding after he relieved himself that he might as well take a shower too. He'd feel a lot cleaner and, more importantly, a lot hotter. Very important. He grabbed a towel and turned on the shower spray, stepping into the bath and drawing the curtain across. He washed the cum and sweat and smell of sex from his body slowly, rinsing his hair thoroughly and conditioning it afterwards to be sure it would be soft and shiny. Afterwards he dried himself off with a towel and gave his hair a quick blow dry, fluffing it up and combing it carefully into place. Finally he brushed his teeth, used mouthwash and all, and returned to the bedroom. 

He smiled as he walked in and Kendall was still asleep, though he'd rolled into his back now instead of his belly. He slipped back under the blanket and lay on his side beside him, resting his head on his hand and watching him slowly breathe in and out, eyelids fluttering now and again. Maybe he was dreaming? He wondered what about.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, James got an uncomfortable scratchy feeling in his throat. He tried to breathe deeply and hold it down but before he knew it a massive cough burst from his throat. He clapped his and over his mouth and cursed silently as Kendall stirred, mumbling something, body curling as a hand moved to rub his eye. James quickly dropped down and rolled over, pretending to be asleep and hoping Kendall wouldn't kill him. 

He heard the blond moving, sheets rustling, felt the weight on the bed shift as he sat up and leaned against the headboard. And suddenly his voice cut through the silence, a little drowsy but still with that usual snark as he said, "James, I know you're awake."

James sighed, rolling over and sitting up. "What gave me away?"

"You mumble when you sleep," Kendall told him matter-of-factly, smiling sweetly. "Or snore."

"I do not!  _You_  snore!"

Kendall laughed. "Okay, Mr. Sensitive. Relax." He leaned over then and kissed James, causing his frown to turn into a wide grin as he immediately went to cup his head and bring him closer. "Minty," Kendall commented softly when they pulled apart, nodding in approval. "Nice."

"I try," James murmured, lips drifting from Kendall's lips over the gentle arch of his cheek, leaving little kisses here and there as he went. A little laugh bubbled out of Kendall's throat at the ticklish feeling of James' lips, hands moving up to lightly run through his hair. "Don't mess it up," James warned, "I worked hard on that."

"Of course, my bad." Kendall removed his hand from James' hair and sat back again, smiling at him out of the corner of his eye as he faced straight ahead. James let himself slip back down to rest his arm on the pillow, hand supporting his head. "How much attention do you give that hair anyway?" Kendall asked.

"Probably too much, but it's all worth it." James lifted his other hand to brush a little loose strand of hair off his forehead. "I use Cuda hair products, you know the ones?"

"Of course, they're only the fanciest in every store. I think I've seen Jett use their hair gel, maybe once. You use that stuff  _every_  day?"

"I do!" James said proudly, giving a toothy grin.

"No wonder your hair's always so shiny," Kendall said with a smile. "Nice job. I usually just buy what's on sale."

"Even with all the money you've got?"

"I prefer to spend it on clothes. Or tattoos, new studs for my face. Books."

"You're a big reader then?"

"I didn't really start until I started working for Jett, before that I was too much of a trash bag to do anything except watch TV shows I didn't care about between work shifts I hated. But now I love to read. It's probably the hobby that takes up most of my spare time, when I'm not working whether it be chores or . . . well, other work. If you know what I mean." 

"I do, I do," James said quickly. He did  _not_  want to hear an explanation of that, not even a little. "So what kind of books do you read?" 

"Oh, all kinds. I've read a few classics, some of that really famous well praised stuff. YA books, obviously, some of them are total trash but I think the genre really get a raw deal. I've read a couple of plays, one Shakespeare but to be honest my brain just doesn't have the focus power to understand all that old fancy English. And I've read some non fiction books too, things about history or nature . . . I guess if it has words, I like it. I'm not picky. Oh, and People Magazine!" 

"I was waiting to hear you say that," James chuckled. 

"Do you read?" 

"I tend not to stray into anything more complex than People Magazine. I prefer TV and video games, and movies. I like to see it in front of me instead of having to imagine it in my head." 

"That's my favourite part; inventing alternative realities," Kendall admitted, biting his lip and idly playing with the edge of the comforter.  "Um, anyway, _*ahem*_  . . . mind getting me a drink? Water, in a glass please." 

"Yes, princess." James got out of bed and strolled out to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water, before returning and handing it to Kendall. Kendall took the drink with a grateful smile and threw his head back, gulping it down loudly and giving a sigh of relief. "That's better," he said happily, clearing his throat and handing the empty glass back to James. "Thanks." 

"You're welcome," James said softly, walking to the door before stopping, turning back around and leaning slightly against the doorframe. 

For a second or two Kendall didn't even notice him  standing there, inspecting his fingernails idly. Then he looked up and saw him, raising his eyebrows and giving a little confused smile. "What?" 

"Can I take take you out on a date?" the words emerged from James' mouth before he could stop them. Once he'd finished his sentence is cheeks turned red and he wanted to kick himself hard in the backside. But then again, perhaps it was better to get this out in the open rather than just hold it in. What did he have to lose? His dignity, his pride, maybe his confidence. No biggie. 

Kendall's head snapped up to look at him, eyes widening almost comically. And just like that, his mask fell away. "I-I . . ." 

"Sorry," James muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to laugh. "It was stupid, I dunno what I was thinking . . ." 

"No, it's not that," Kendall said quickly, getting up and walking over to him, hand touching his arm lightly as though he were almost afraid to. "It's not stupid. It's just that . . . I'm not sure us going out is a good idea. I don't want Jett to find out and get mad." 

"Oh, but . . ." James quirked an eyebrow. "I thought there was nothing going on between you two?" 

"There isn't, but I know you guys still aren't crazy about each other and he is my boss, in a way, and I know he wouldn't like it and I don't want to upset him, especially because he treats me so well and I can't give that up just for you. I'm sorry." 

"I guess I understand, I mean . . ." James, at last, could bring himself to smile, biting his lip as he reached out and touched Kendall's waist with both hands, pulling his body just that bit closer. "So, if it weren't for that you'd go on a date with me?" 

"Well, sure," Kendall admitted, smiling back as his hands rested on James' biceps, glancing up from under his lashes to meet his eyes. "Why not?" 

"Well, when I think of it, I can't give you a reason why not," he teased. "I'm charming, handsome, moderately intelligent and I'd know how to spoil you. I'd treat you  _real_  nice." 

Kendall gave a little hum and pressed up closer to him, their bare skin touching and sending a little chill through James' body. "I believe you. It's a shame, really. I like doing this with you, even if it's only our second time. Fifth if you count the literal times we've had sex . . ." 

"Figures that would be your favourite part, escort," James joked, squeezing Kendall's naked butt and receiving a smack on the back of the head as a result. "Ouch." 

"Please, horndog, you couldn't wait to get me back in your bed, you think I don't know why you came to get my from the station? Sure, you like me, or whatever, but I know damn well what was part of the deal." 

"You sound mad . . ." 

"I'm not, I'm just saying. We're alike in that way, I guess." He smiled up at James and leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his shoulder and smiling against his skin. James held him close and thought to himself in the silence for a minute or two. He wasn't quite ready to let go of him just yet. 

"So," James clicked his tongue and thought carefully about how to go about this, tilting his head as he pecked the side of Kendall's neck. "So if you won't come out on a date with me, why don't I bring the date here?" He pressed another few kisses down Kendall's neck, flicking his tongue out against the soft skin. Kendall moaned softly, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes, letting James continue to kiss him. 

"Sure, sure, that could work," he said breathlessly, keening as he felt James' teeth touch his neck for a second. He pressed his hands to James' shoulders and stepped backwards carefully, taking a deep breath to try and recover. "Why don't you get right on that, and I'll go use your shower. Good?" 

"Okay, we can do that," James replied, nodding and grinning. "Great. I'll take a look in my fridge and see what I can cook." 

"Ooh, a cook?" Kendall gasped, winking as he walked past James and out into the hallway, heading down in the direction of the bathroom. "I'm so lucky. I hear cooks are great with their hands." 

"I've never heard anyone say that," James called, moving towards the kitchen. 

"Alright, I made it up. It's probably the opposite now that I think about it, all that chopping and whisking. Anyway, I'll be in the shower!" And the bathroom door slammed shut. Chuckling to himself, James walked across the kitchen and took Kendall's glass back to the sink, filling it up before gulping his drink down, panting at the end and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Feeling pleasantly rehydrated already, he left the glass in the sink and went to the refrigerator, opening it up and looking inside. What he saw was not an uplifting sight; his smile dropped as he eyed its alarmingly disappointing contents. Milk, half a bottle of orange juice, beer, a block of cheese, a bruised apple, a packet with two slices of ham, and a jar of mayonnaise. 

"Fuck," he cursed. Why didn't he go grocery shopping when he was supposed to?! He had  _nothing_. Fuming, he shut the refrigerator door hard. But all was not lost, he would make sure of it. He walked over to the counter and opened the second drawer, which was filled with takeout menus, old receipts and aluminium foil. He took out his chunk of menus and rifled through them, biting his lip. Asian and Mexican foods probably weren't advisable at the moment, so he discarded those and stuffed them back in the drawer. Clearing his throat, he left the kitchen and walked down to the bathroom, hearing the shower running on the other side right before he opened it softly and walked inside. 

Above the sound of the water running, he could hear Kendall humming behind the curtain, singing a line of two of his song before returning to simple hums and whistles. Moving over to the bath, James grabbed the edge of the curtain and yanked it aside. Kendall let out a guttural scream right before his hand snapped out to smack James across the face, knocking him backwards. "Ow!" he yelped, holding his cheek. "That really hurt!"

"Well that's what you get for scaring the shit out of me, jackass!" Kendall yelled, whipping his wet hair out of his eyes and scowling at him. "Did you want something else other than to give me a heart attack?" 

Hand on his burning cheek, James nodded grudgingly. "Yeah. This is funny, but I've actually got no food. Nothing worthwhile, at least. Soo . . . do you want pizza, or cheeseburgers?" 

Laughing, Kendall picked up the bottle of shampoo and squirted some out into his hand, eyes wandering thoughtfully. "Both," he said at last with a sweet smile. "Didn't you say you're treat me real nice? Now, if you'll excuse me, I've already rinsed, it's time to repeat." And with that he reached for the curtain and yanked it back across, shielding himself from view. 

". . . but what pizza do you like?!" James asked in an afterthought, stepping back cautiously in case Kendall decided to splash him or attack him or something. 

"Hawaiian, now leave me alone!" 

"Jeez," James muttered, leaving the bathroom and shutting the door. However, as soon as he was on the other side he found himself resting his back against it and sighing in content. What was it about him . . . 

He hurried off into the kitchen and grabbed his cell phone, dialling the number of the local pizza place only around the corner, ordering Hawaiian (gross) for Kendall and a meat feast for himself, before calling another number and ordering their burgers. God only knew how Kendall ate that much, the guy was so skinny. At least James worked his off and built up muscle as a result. Once he'd ordered the food, he knew it would take at least half an hour to get there, give or take, considered how close they were. It was a quiet time of day too, that was bound to have a positive effect. Clapping his hands together he looked around the kitchen, biting his lip and thinking hard. Did he have any candles . . .? 

He bustled around the kitchen, opening cupboards and setting out plates and knives and forks. It was doubtful they'd even use the cutlery but it made the place look a little nicer. Then he was struck with inspiration and took everything off the table again, leaving it in the counter and beginning to search for a tablecloth. He didn't have one, as it turned out; he should've guessed that. So he ran into his room and took out one of his spare covers for the comforter, taking it out and throwing it over the table. Spreading it out, it was acceptable, even if Kendall would maybe see right through it. After that he set the table again, and began to search for some kind of candles or maybe a centrepiece. The only candle he could find was a scented one he sometimes used to get the smell out of the kitchen when he deep fried things. He stuck it in its holder and placed it in the middle of the table, lighting it and stepping back to admire his handiwork. Real classy date material, even if he did say so himself. 

"What's all this? Is that your comforter?" 

With a frightened yelp, James spun around to see Kendall walking towards him, drying his hair with a towel, still naked as the day he was born. It was a pretty pleasant sight. "Uh, it's a spare cover," he said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "I don't have a tablecloth." 

"That's okay, nobody under thirty does," Kendall chuckled, pressing up to him and kissing him, smiling over at the table. "It's really nice. You weren't kidding about treating me nice, huh?" 

"Well, this is close to how it would look if I did take you out . . ." 

"You'd take me somewhere classy with candles and everything?" 

"Well . . . now I think about it, maybe we wouldn't fit in a place like that. But I'd definitely consider it."

"We'd probably burn the place down," Kendall chuckled. "But we could also feed each other sorbet, whatever that is." 

"I would love to feed you sorbet. That's a dessert, right?" James scooped Kendall up into his arms, carrying him over to the couch and laying him down, leaning over him and taking the towel from his hands, dropping it on the floor so it was no longer in the way. "Doesn't matter. Would you feed me like, lean twice baked fancy meat cutlets?" 

"That was way too many words, and doesn't sound romantic at all. At least with that sorbet stuff you can probably use a spoon or something." 

" _Excuse_  me, princess. Someone's a little more high maintenance than they let on." Smirking, James leaned down and pecked Kendall's lips, before prying them open gently with his tongue and kissing him deeper. He wound his arms around Kendall's waist, lifting his body closer and letting out a happy little hum as he moved over hand back around to wander gently down this thigh. 

"You're seriously thinking about sex again?" Kendall said in disbelief, smiling idly as he removed James' hand from his thigh. "Take a break already, before you die." 

"I'd die a happy death, blondie," James purred, kissing down Kendall's chin, over his neck and down his chest, giving longer slower kisses the lower he travelled. "Mmm, you've got the  _softest_  skin." 

"James, seriously, I just had a shower," Kendall giggled, pushing James off his chest and holding his cheeks to keep him in place. "I don't wanna get all hot and bothered and cum-covered again." 

"Is it not worth it?" James teased, managing to turn his head and kiss Kendall's wrist. The blond's cheeks flushed and James grinned. 

"Well, um . . ." Kendall's brow furrowed as he thought for a minute. "Won't your hair get all sweaty and messed up? I mean, you obviously worked hard to get it looking so perfect . . ." 

"Hmm." Frowning, James sat up. "You're right." His hands quickly moved up to fix his hair, just in case. "This doesn't just happen by itself, you know." 

"I know," Kendall chuckled and sat up too, leaning forward and pecking him on the lips. "I like it, that you put an effort into it. It's cute." 

"Oh yeah?" James grinned, following Kendall as he leaned back and kissing him softly, smiling with their lips brushing together as he added, "Enough to consider doing it yourself?" 

"Me? Never, I'm a total slob. Sorry, dude." 

Suddenly there a knock on the door and James hopped up cheerfully. "One of our meals is here! Hold on, let me get my wallet." He jogged into his bedroom and picked up a stray pair of sweatpants from the floor, slipping them up and picking up his wallet from the dresser. He walked back out, seeing Kendall stretched out on the couch, legs dangling over the side before he gave him a disappointed look. "What's with the pants?" he asked sadly. "I thought this would be some kind of naked dinner date." 

"After both the delivery guys have come, I don't wanna scare them," James chuckled, walking to the door. "So stay sitting until he's gone, keep those private parts private." 

"Whatever," Kendall yawned, hand stretched out over the back of the couch. 

James opened the door, smiling in greeting at the pimply faced, wide smiled delivery boy. "Hey!" 

"Hi," the guy answered back, beaming as he handed over the paper bag. "Two cheeseburger meals, $14."  

"Sure, sure," James said cheerfully, taking out fifteen and handing it over, taking the bag in response. "Keep the change, I know it's not much . . ." 

"Thanks!" The guy's eyes suddenly strayed past him to where Kendall was stretched out on the couch. At first nothing was out of the ordinary; he smiled in greeting and Kendall smiled back, giving a little nod of acknowledgement. It was clear he was bare chested like James was, that was fine. But then the guy suddenly seemed to notice Kendall's long bare legs hanging provocatively over the side of the couch and probably realised that he was completely naked. With that he gave a nervous gulp, gave James a wide eyed smile and nervous laugh, before hurrying and fleeing down the hallway. 

Biting back a laugh, James shut the door and turned back to Kendall, who was hopping up and giving a carefree little shrug. "He couldn't handle my glorious form," he said nonchalantly. "What can you do?" 

James put the bag on the table with a smile, slapping Kendall"s hand away sharply when he reached for it. "No no, not until the rest of our food is here," he said sternly, but grinned at Kendall's outraged expression. "In the meantime, perhaps something to drink?" 

"Sure, sure," Kendall laughed, watching James produce two of the five wine glasses he owned.  

"Water, orange juice, milk, beer," James listed out the drink options, giving a sheepish shrug at the end. "My food and drink supply leave a lot to be desired."

"Juice, please," Kendall said, sitting at the table. "It's too early for beer, even for me." 

"Fair enough. You're probably right. I shouldn't be drinking on our first date anyway." He of course was joking, and Kendall knew it; they both chuckled, but both with flushed cheeks because oh yeah. This was a date. It didn't quite feel like it; maybe because of the way they were acting? Very aloof, very casual. Like friends with benefits more than people on a date. But he did like it this way, it felt right for them. They were hardly going to be delivering flowers and chocolates to each other on embroidered cushions and arranging hot air balloon rides, arriving with roses, dressed in tuxes. He wondered what would happen if he bought Kendall flowers or chocolates. He imagined he'd appreciate the latter more, and would probably stuff his face with them. He poured them two wine glasses of juice and set one down in front of Kendall, leaving the other at his place. After that, he sat down and took a sip, smacking his lips and smiling over at Kendall, who was drumming his fingers on the table and biting his lip, watching him with large green eyes. James gazed back, about to lean forward and kiss him when there was another knock on the door.  

"Pizza!" he announced cheerfully, getting up. "You can unpack the cheeseburgers now, I'm sure you're excited." 

"You know it," Kendall said with a wink, reaching across the table for the bag and opening it up while James walked to the door, hoisting up the waistband of his sweatpants a little and grabbing his wallet before opening the door. 

"Hey!" the delivery boy greeted chirpily, handing over the boxes. "One Hawaiian, one meat feast." 

"Thanks," James replied with a winning smile, hanging the money over and taking the boxes. "Keep the change." 

Once the door was shut again, James dumped the pizza boxes on the table before wriggling out of his sweatpants and kicking them away. Kendall winked at him approvingly and opened the top pizza box, handing it to him. "Here's yours. Ready to officially start our naked dinner date?" 

"Always." Sitting down again, James tugged his plate of a cheeseburger and fries towards him, eagerly opening a ketchup packet and squeezing the contents out on top of them. In the meantime, Kendall had opened his pizza and scattered fries all over it, giving a satisfied grin before picking up his cheeseburger and taking a large bite. He moaned loudly, thumb wiping some sauce from the corner of his mouth. "This is  _so_  good. I haven't had a really good cheeseburger in weeks." 

"You've been living life wrong," James chuckled and shrugged, nibbling on some fries and trying to remain polite. He didn't want his first date with Kendall to be ruined by lack of table manners. However Kendall didn't seem to care at all, chomping through his burger with gusto, no care whatsoever for how he looked while doing it. So James followed suit, shoving the rest of his fries into his mouth and sucking the last traces of ketchup off his fingers. After that he picked up a slice of pizza and took a big bite, munching on pepperoni and sausage meat happily. Pizza was one of those simpler joys in life. That and naked dinners with a bubbly, snarky blond barely-adult escort who was dangling a fry teasingly in front of his mouth, feeding him with a giggle as James' tongue tickled his fingers. 

The two ate the rest of their meal, gulping down the rest of their drinks when they were finished. Kendall stuffed his papers into his empty pizza box with the crusts, closing the box and leaving it on the table. "What time is it?" he asked. 

"Hold on, let me check." James got up and went to grab his phone, giving it a quick check. "It's almost four." 

"Oh, wow . . . the time really flew, huh? I have to go." 

"Already?" James asked forlornly before he could help himself. 

"Yeah," Kendall replied with a sigh, standing up and walking to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his lips, giving his chin a playful little nip. "I've got stuff to get done back at home, they'll miss me if I don't show up." 

"Okay," James said with a regretful nod. "That's fair, I guess . . . maybe we can meet up again." 

"Do you have my number?" 

"How about you give it to me?" James handed his phone over with a charming smile. "I'll text you and then you'll have mine." 

"That sounds good to me," Kendall said, typing his number into James' phone and handing it back to him, before turning and walking back to James' bedroom. James followed and watched the blond pick up his underwear, sliding it up and putting on his jeans and T-shirt. Finally he slipped into his shoes and socks and put on his jacket, checking that his phone and wallet were still secure in the pockets. "I'll see you around." 

"Yeah, see you . . ." 

James tugged Kendall close to him as he walked past to leave, kissing him one more time with his hand slipping underneath the hem of his shirt, touching his lower back. Kendall hummed softly against his lips, eyes fluttering open slowly when he pulled back with pink cheeks. "Bye," he murmured, beaming bashfully as he turned and walked to the apartment door, opening it and walking out without looking back, shutting it tight after him. James gave a long sigh and flopped down onto his bed, shutting his eyes and letting the memories of that day and the previous night wash over him blissfully. One thing was for sure; if things went right, they were doing that again. 

And they did; James and Kendall met up in that manner again, only a day later. Kendall called him and arranged to visit him at his apartment that evening for another 'date'. Once there, the two kissed and talked for a few sweet minutes before ordering Chinese food over the phone. And in the hour waiting for their food they had hot, rough sex on the couch, James gripping Kendall tightly in his lap as he fucked up sharply into him with no mercy. He'd already been stretched, indicating that he had likely had sex when someone else that same day, maybe only a couple of hours before. It had to be with someone of Jett's gang, maybe even Jett himself. James wasn't afraid to admit he was jealous of the older man, at least not to himself. He was sure if he said it to Kendall the blond would only make fun of him. He didn't understand how it felt.  

The two met up another few times over the next few days; not quite every day, but close to it. Mostly in his apartment, but out once or twice (never in a very datelike manner). His gang questioned why he always seemed so perky, always with his head in the clouds. Why his fridge was suddenly filled with delicious goods and fine wine (all for Kendall, but they didn't need to know that). He just smiled and told them it was nothing, absolutely nothing. They were being paranoid, nothing was new with him. All lies, not that it bothered him. They wouldn't understand. Well, Logan and Carlos, maybe, but he still couldn't be sure. It was better to stay silent. 

The afternoon after James cooked Kendall a delicious meal of steak and shop bought mashed potatoes (where Kendall brought desert; a cheesecake and, of course, himself) James' phone rang with a call from Jett. Instantly his mind was filled with thoughts of terror, sure that he'd been caught. But when he picked up, he heard Jett greet him in a shockingly cheerful voice.  _"Hey James, great news! We got a call!"_  

For a moment, James couldn't even remember what he was talking about. But then it hit him sharply in the head and he replied in disbelief, "From the other gang? What did they say?!" 

_"Well, they don't want to fight, not yet at least. They're sending one of their men to meet us tomorrow, we're gonna bring him to my place to talk. Now, I figured maybe you could go, and I've got someone else to meet so I'll send Wayne with you, is that cool?"_  

"That's fine. Where and when?" 

_"At five."_  Jett gave him the address afterwards, adding,  _"You guys can take Wayne's car and drive him back. Don't worry, it'll be fine. We've just gotta be civil and friendly, we can do that. I'll be there to meet him at the house."_  

"Sure, sure." Giving a small sigh, James added, "That's good. It is. I'll see you tomorrow night." 

They finished their call and James put his phone away, giving another sigh, a longer one. This meeting surely meant that these issues were close to ending, that they were close to reaching their goal of freeing themselves from the other gang. Which meant they were getting closer to their alliance coming to an end. It was a relief, not having to worry about the safety if his friends anymore. But no more Jett would mean no more Kendall. He knew he would still never leave Jett's gang, so if they split, that would be it. It would end, just like that. 

* * *

 "I guess I'm just wondering what'll happen at the end of this," James sighed, stirring the straw of his milkshake with a sigh. He and Kendall were seated in a diner; it was just gone 10pm and the two had agreed to meet for a while and then go home before it got too late. Sometimes, out like this with him, he got a little niggling feeling that he was being watched, and he would look around expecting to see Jett ready to punch him in the face, but never saw him. Now the two were sitting in a diner with a surprising abundance of customers considering the late hour, and most of them sober too. They were in a booth by the window, and he still felt that little uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, but what was more the focus now was the current topic they were discussing. "You know, not just with us, but with Jett and I as well . . ." 

Giving a loud slurp of his shake, Kendall nodded solemnly, pulling back from it and replying, "I've been thinking about it too. I mean, the truth is we'll probably stop seeing each other when it ends, if you and Jett go back to the way you used to be with each other. Whether you do or not is really up to the both of you."

"I'm not sure I even want to fight with him anymore, we've had each other's backs through this whole thing and to just go back to hating each other like it never happened . . . I don't know if I want to do that." James sighed again, drinking his milkshake in silence for a few minutes before adding, "But I'm probably overthinking this. This might be far from over anyway, I might be freaking out over nothing." 

"Sounds like you," Kendall teased, poking his hand gently and laughing. "Just don't let it get to you right now." 

James nodded, smiling at the blond and going back to his drink. Across from their booth, sitting on the stools by the counter, the group of girls got up and left, chattering loudly and laughing hysterically. He and Kendall were content to sit in silence, only adding a comment or two occasionally to mention what they'd done that day, or how good the milkshakes were, or wow, it was really dark outside. Was Kendall sure he didn't want James to walk him home afterwards? Yes he was, he wasn't a baby and he could take care of himself. James was just making sure, he didn't want him to get hurt.  

"I understand, but seriously, I'm fine," Kendall insisted, looking up by force of habit when the door of the diner opened again. 

"Yeah, okay, I guess I just can't help worrying," James admitted with a shrug, stirring his milkshake again. "You know, it's a tough way to . . . Kendall?" It became clear to him suddenly that the blond was no longer listening to him; his eyes were attentively following the pair that had just walked in. There was a man in his forties walking to the counter with a young woman with dark hair and big brown eyes. "Kendall, are you okay?" he asked, reaching out to touch his hand. As he did, Kendall jumped and turned to face him with wide eyes, 

"I-I'm sorry," he stuttered, eyes flickering between James and the two strangers. "I just . . . I have to . . . one minute." He rose from his seat and scooted around the table, following the two to the counter with slow, dazed steps. The two were leaning against the counter and chatting as they waited to be served. James watched Kendall reach out, hand troubling, to touch the man's shoulder, just as one word left his mouth, surprisingly clear and strong. 

"Dad."


	7. Chapter 7

"Dad." 

The man turned around, brow furrowed as he stared at Kendall, giving him one slow look up and down. James watched with wide eyes from their booth, hands clasping his glass tightly. "E-Excuse me?" the man said at last, raising an eyebrow in confusion. 

"You are, aren't you? I recognise your face. I know you," Kendall replied determinedly, reaching for him again. But he inched away from Kendall's hand and kept that same feeling of discomfort on his face. "You're Andrew Knight. I  _know_  you are." 

"R-really, I don't know what you're talking about," the man, Andrew, protested. It was clear now that Kendall had been right; he was suddenly very squeamish, tugging at the collar of his shirt uncomfortably and swallowing between every few words. "Honestly I-I . . ." 

"Then why are you sweating so much?" Kendall demanded. There was a trace of a smile on his face. "Look, I don't want to yell at you or anything, I just wanted to—" 

"Dad," the young woman cut in suddenly, finally turning around to face them. Her hair was tied back neatly behind her head; she stared at Kendall in disbelief, the two stark opposites side by side. But there were, James noticed, a few similarities in their faces. "Who is this?" she asked him, hand on his arm and she glanced at Kendall with slight dismay, caution, something of the like in her eyes. 

Kendall stared back at her, expression changing from one of hope and nervousness, to one of sudden rage. "Who the fuck is this?" he demanded, pointing at the woman accusingly as he glared hard at Andrew. "Who is she?!" 

"S-she's my daughter," Andrew stammered, stepping back when Kendall stepped closer to him accusingly. "Look, I-I—" 

"Your  _daughter? **You**._ " Kendall turned back to the woman, now so close to her she was stepping back in fear. "How old are you?" 

"Nineteen," she answered uncertainly; James noticed her gripping her purse a little tighter as she eyed him warily. 

"Nineteen, you're . . . oh my god, oh my  _god_." Turning back to Andrew, to James' horror, Kendall shoved him hard against the counter. "How long were you keeping her a secret, huh?" he roared. "How long, you bastard!" 

"S-sir," a waitress stammered. "Sir, you're upsetting the other customers—" 

"I was only a kid," Kendall wailed, fist slamming hard against Andrew's chest. "I was only a kid and you left me for HER!" 

"Kendall, that's enough,  _Kendall_." James' arms wrapped tight around Kendall's waist and he yanked him back before he could punch this man in the nose. The blond squirmed and screamed and tried to kick him, hands scratching at his as he dragged him close to the door. "I'm sorry about this!" James called to the waitress, fishing ten dollars out of his pocket and tossing it onto the table with their half finished milkshakes. "Sorry!" 

"Let me go, you asshole!" Kendall yelled, trying to ram his head back into his face, shrieking and struggling as James dragged him out of the diner. " _No!_ " 

"What is the matter with you?" James demanded, finally turning him once they were past the diner and slamming him against the wall, hands gripping his upper arms tightly. "You know, there are better ways to handle confrontation than screaming the whole fucking place down!" 

Kendall's chest heaved, gaze drifting in the direction of the diner. His face was still scrunched into a scowl, until suddenly, it wasn't; his lower lip began to tremble and he clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes filling with tears. "Shit," James exhaled, letting go of Kendall's arms and instead tugging him forward into his arms. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell, don't cry . . . Don't cry, okay?" 

"I'm not crying," Kendall replied huffily, breathing hard against James' chest. "I-I'm just . . . I'm trying to calm myself down." 

"Why don't we go sit down somewhere?" 

"Okay . . ." 

James led Kendall down the street and found the closest place to sit; a low stone sill. The two slumped down and sat with brushing shoulders, Kendall immediately reaching into his jacket pocket for a cigarettes and his lighter. "Want one?" he offered, holding the box out. 

"No thanks," James replied quietly, watching Kendall light up and take a deep drag, exhaling it upwards into the air. "So . . . that was your dad, huh?" 

"It had to be. He looks so familiar . . . I was really little when he left me but I've never forgotten what he looked like. And his reaction, it had to be him." Kendall clenched his free hand into a fist in his knee, knuckles cracking, jaw clenched. "Fucking cowardly little shit." 

"Yeah," James said uncertainly, not really sure what else to say. He'd never been in a situation like this before, maybe he was doing it all wrong, or maybe he had said just the right thing. He had no idea which, however; all Kendall did was nod, give an aggravated sigh and take another drag of his cigarette, pursing his lips together after blowing a puff of smoke in the direction of the ground this time. James looked ahead of him at the passing cars, biting his lip and drumming his fingers anxiously on his knees. He heard footsteps then, to his right, where the diner was. He looked down at the ground, figuring whoever it was would walk on by and ignore them. However, the footsteps stopped, and he heard someone clearing their throat. 

"Um . . . hi." 

James and Kendall looked up to see the young woman from before standing in front of them, hands folded tight against her chest, face pale, biting her lip in the middle, that same way Kendall always did. "I-I, uh . . . I'm sorry." She scratched the side of her neck nervously. "Are you . . . are you really my brother?" 

Kendall looked up at her, holding his cigarette to the side between two fingers. "Is he really your dad?" he retorted, hand jerking in the direction of the diner. 

"Yeah . . ." 

"Then yeah." 

"Okay, wow, um . . . c-can we talk?" 

Without answering, Kendall turned and gave James a sideways glance. He bit his lip, eyebrows raising slightly. James took the hint and stood up, stepping back. "You're okay getting home?" he checked one more time as he moved to give her room to sit in his place. 

"I'm fine, thanks." Kendall smiled up at him. "I'll see you tomorrow night. Big day, huh?" 

"Uh huh . . . bye." Taking a deep breath, he too, a few steps backwards and finally turned around, walking down the street with slow and steady steps, telling himself firmly over and over that he wouldn't look back. This was nothing to do with him, after all. It was better he knew nothing. 

Kendall took another drag of his cigarette, biting his lip and holding in a laugh when the woman — his sister, really — said at last with a hint of mirth in her voice, "Those things'll give you cancer, you know." 

"Yeah," he replied, but dropped it onto the ground and rubbed it out with his foot. "I know." 

"Did I hear him call you Kendall?" 

"Probably, considering that's my name." 

Her face lit up in a wide smile. "I love that name. I used to have a cat named Kendall." 

"What? You're kidding!" 

"No," she laughed, playing with her ponytail a little. "Dad hated the name, he wanted me to call it something more catlike, Whiskers or Fluffy or something. Now I know why he didn't like it." 

"Yeah . . ." 

"My name's Katie." 

"I'd love to retort with a similar story, but I've never had a pet. So . . . that's a nice name." 

"Thanks." Clicking her tongue, she tapped her feet off the ground in a messy little beat for a few seconds. "Um, s-so . . . what happened?" 

"Well . . ." Kendall took a deep breath, folding his arms and huddling forward; it was a little chilly out at this point. "It was me, my mom and my dad until I was about three, I think. And my mom died . . . I can't remember how, I just remember being told. Then a couple of weeks later, he brought me to the park and said he'd be back in a few hours. He wasn't, he never came back at all." 

"Oh my . . ." She sat still for a moment with her hand pressed over her mouth, voice cracking as she continued at last, "When I was really little I didn't see much of him, my mom told me he was away on business. Now I know the real reason . . . it was you." 

Kendall nodded, swallowing and speaking on before he could stop himself, "Obviously he already had your mom when I was born, since you came first. I don't know why he didn't just leave us, maybe he felt guilty or something? And yet he felt just fine dumping me in a park where anything could happen to me . . ." 

"Did it?" Katie asked hoarsely, hand reaching out unexpectedly to touch his. 

"No," he admitted. "I stayed at the playground all day, even when it became clear to me that I was alone. Eventually a woman took pity on me and brought me home with her daughter, and I lived with her for a few months." 

"And after that?" 

"Well, when her husband came home, I guess he ddin't like me because suddenly she was upset all the time and the next thing I knew she put me in a foster home with some other kids. That was okay, I was there for a few years until our foster mom kicked the bucket. Then I ended up in a home for kids with no place else to go, the kind nobody wants. I lived there until I was old enough to leave, that was only about six months ago, maybe a little more . . ." 

"Oh god, Kendall . . ." Katie squeezed his hand tight as she said, voice wobbling, "I'm so sorry. You don't deserve going through something like that." 

"Yeah, well . . ." Kendall gave a feeble shrug, running his hand through his hair and pushing it off his forehead. "It happened. We can't do anything to change it. But thanks." 

Katie sighed. "Well, now I'm seeing him in our whole new light. Our dad, I mean. He just left one kid to raise another and not even with another guardian. It's so wrong, it's so . . . I don't know if I'll even be able to look at him once I get home." 

"Still living at home, huh?" 

"Yeah, college isn't far so there's not much point paying for a dorm. I'm a business major. I'm really into making and saving money, managing, things like that." 

"Huh, that's cool." Kendall chuckled. "I'm more into spending money." 

Katie laughed, and the two slowly then fell into silence. Kendall's heels scuffed off the ground back and forth, Katie playing with the loose threads on the knees of her jeans. Biting their lips, they stayed lost in their own thoughts for a few minutes. At last Katie said, "Well, it's getting late, I have to get home . . ." 

"Yeah, I should go too," Kendall nodded, standing up. Katie stood up too, bouncing nervously on her toes. Then she asked, stammering a little at the end, "Maybe we can meet up again?" 

"Yeah, I'd like that. Give me your phone?" She did and he typed his number in, before holding it back and taking a picture of himself pulling a cheeky face. He handed it back to her with a grin. "You can call me whenever, chances are I won't be busy. I'm not in college and I, uh, I work from home." 

"Okay," she said with a smile. "Thanks, Kendall. I'll see you soon." 

As they both walked their separate ways, he felt strange. Tonight he felt as though he had lost his father for a second time. Something he never thought he would have to endure. But he found something better, someone to make up for it. He was all cried out, and it didn't matter. 

* * *

 

James wanted to hear about what happened between Kendall and Katie, but Kendall didn't contact him to tell him anything about it. He assumed instead that he would just see him that evening at Jett's house. At the assigned time, he walked in the right direction, knowing Wayne would meet him there. It was now he realised investing in a car (and actually learning how to drive) might be worthwhile. He'd never bothered learning, he never needed to. He could take buses or cabs or everything was within walking distance. Once less thing to worry about being stolen, too. As he finally arrived on the right street, he stood back and waited, until a shiny, perfectly kept car pulled up and Wayne got out, smiling a little in greeting at him. "Hey, what's up?" 

"Nothing. Nice car." 

"Thanks," Wayne replied with a proud grin. "That guy we're meeting should be here soon, I don't know what he looks like . . ." 

"Let's face it," James said with a grim chuckle. "These guys know who we are, I'm sure he'll know us when he sees us. A creepy thought but we can't do much about it now." 

"They're obviously pretty good at watching us and taking notes without ever getting noticed. Should we be worried?" 

"Let's wait and see. No need to panic just yet." 

They waited in silence for about ten minutes; this street was totally deserted except for a couple of packed cars. Not a pedestrian in sight. Until finally, so one did arrive; a tall man with dark hair, very handsome, was walking right towards them. James cleared his throat and stood up, seeing Wayne copy him out of the corner of his eye. Admittedly he was gaining a little fondness for the guy; he was a bit like a little brother. Jett probably felt that way about him too. 

"Hey," the man greeted, offering a charming, albeit a little discomforting smile, shaking James and Wayne's hands briefly. "I'm Beau. Listen, I don't even know if my boss know your names, he never told me . . ." 

"Oh, right. I'm." James cleared his throat again, giving the friendliest smile he could manage. "I'm James. I lead one of the gangs. And this is Wayne, he's from the other, his boss is back at the house." Wayne grunted and gave a half-hearted nod in greeting, turning back and walking to his car, getting in and sitting in the driver's seat.  

"I guess he's not in the mood to chat, huh?" Beau joked, lightly bumping shoulders with James as they too walked to the car. 

"I don't think so. But it's fine, it's not him you have to chat too. Hop in and we'll take you there." James got in the passenger seat while Beau got in the back, and they set off. They fell into a comfortable enough silence as they drove, none of them particularly willing to speak. James didn't want to say too much without Jett there too, as embarrassing as that was. And clearly Wayne wanted nothing to do with him; it was probably a miracle he'd even agreed to come pick them up. Beau seemed perfectly comfortable sitting there, like he belonged in that seat. James didn't like him; sure, they'd barely said a few words to each other, but that smile sent an unpleasant little shiver down his spine and made his palms sweat. Then again, surely anybody who was a potential threat to him would make him feel that way, no matter how well mannered and friendly they seemed. It was difficult to get past that feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. 

When they at last drove into the right estate and pulled into Jett's driveway, the three men got out of the car and shut the doors, Wayne locking the car afterward and giving the roof a small, probably grateful pat. Weird guy. "This place is huge," Beau whistled, smiling in awe at the house. "Someone's a big success story, huh? You know, I hear that when a guy owns a lot of huge stuff, he's compensating for something else . . ." 

"I disagree," Wayne retorted, before taking off and walking up to the door. James, secretly and maliciously hoping Beau might be right, walked after him with their special guest.  

James, Wayne and Beau walked through Jett's front door and across the hall into the living room. The rest of the gangs were sprawled across the couches and chairs, Stephanie and Camille passing a cigarette between them while Dak was sprawled against them, chuckling loudly at nothing. There was some old Green Day album playing on the stereo, and in the middle of the floor Kendall and Guitar Dude were dancing around, Kendall swaying his hips in the taller man's hands and laughing loudly. Occasionally one of them stumbled against the other, so it was fairly obvious they'd both already had a few. James couldn't help smiling as he watched Kendall dancing around and laughing, bare feet making hardly any sound on the wooden floor. He was just wearing a large t-shirt with some massive slogan on the front that fell down loosely to his upper thighs, and little boxer briefs underneath. Always the life of the party. 

"Right." James offered Beau a seat, before slumping down himself and pointing everyone out. "There's Carlos, Logan, Steve, Tad, Lucy, and Dirt Boy." Satisfied that the nickname didn't sway Beau at all, James continued on. "There's Dak, Stephanie and Camille, Ozzie, and the other big man himself, Jett." Introducing Jett as his co-leader was a strange feeling. He wasn't sure he liked it much. Being an ally was one thing, addressing it formally was another. 

Jett nodded curtly to Beau and gave a small smile, as James finished off by pointing to the dancing, giggling couple. "And there's Guitar Dude and Kendall." 

"What about me?" Kendall asked, stopping his dancing and glancing at them curiously. He gave Beau a sweet smile in greeting, the dark-haired man grinning back up at him. 

"Just letting him know who you are, kiddo," James teased, winking at him. Wayne scowled at him, before grabbing the last can of lager and quickly opening it up. 

Kendall rolled his eyes and turned to Jett, holding his arm. "Gimme another drink, Jett." 

Jett chuckled, shaking his head and prying Kendall's hand off. "I think you've had enough." 

"Aww, come on! One more!" Kendall pouted. 

Jett laughed again. "Alright, blondie. Go get us some more beer, and you've got yourself a deal." 

Raising his eyebrows, Kendall giggled and stepped back. "When I come back, you better do what you said. Liars won't beee . . . won't be tolerated here." Giving him a cheeky wink, he left the room, tripping in the doorway a little in his tipsy state. 

Finishing off what he had left of his drink, Jett turned to James and Beau. "He'll get you guys drinks. Right, what's first?" 

"Well." Beau cleared his throat. "Truth is, I wasn't told much about what I was to do. I guess first of all you guys could tell me a little about who you are and what it is you want." 

What did they  _want?_  Jett gave James a slight incredulous look, before turning to Beau and clearing his throat. "Well, uh . . . we're two separate gangs, which I'm guessing you guys knew, considering you went after two different men." 

"Yeaah, sorry about that," Beau replied with a small sigh, giving a shrug and slouching back in his seat. "We wanted to announce our arrival. I was one of the guys who went for that freckled redhead." He glanced at James. "I think he was yours." 

"He was," James replied, teeth gritted. Thinking about Tyler made his chest ache. 

"Don't worry, he didn't suffer too bad." 

 _You're lying. I know you are._  But he said nothing and just nodded, trying to breathe steady and keep himself from saying something he'd regret. "What does your gang want?" he asked at last. "Why did you come here? We've been around for years, surely you knew about us." 

"Oh we did, we did. Thing is we had a change of leadership and he wasn't keen on where we were, wanted to spread out over a bigger city. And so here we are." 

"Yeah, well." Jett smiled at him, turning on that faultless charm as he said, "We're not too keen on the idea, as you've probably guessed. I mean, we don't want to fight or anything, we're not that type." And he gave a sideways glance towards James and Wayne to make sure neither of them laughed. "But maybe we can point you in a different direction? I know better places, empty places, we both do. Think your boss would be okay with that?" 

"He might be. We haven't had him very long, I don't know the guy too well. But here's the thing; this might cheer you up." Beau grinned, leaning forward in his chair. "Let me just say that so far you guys are in my good books. And if you're in my good books, then you're in my boss's good books." 

"Well, I think it should be you in  _our_  good books, since we—" 

Elbowing Wayne in the side, James glared at him before saying to Beau, "We're happy with that. But obviously, that's not gonna solve everything." 

"I know that. We can talk about it all night long." Beau got to his feet. "Right now I've gotta piss. You got a bathroom around here?" 

"Near the back door," Jett answered, watching Beau leave the room. He turned to James immediately. "What do you think of him?" 

"He makes me feel a bit uncomfortable," James replied shortly, because what else could he really say about him? "So . . . do you really think think we can get them out by negotiation? Just sending them off somewhere else?" 

"I'm not sure. But I don't see why not, we're getting along so far. Right now it just sounds like they're looking for a place to settle. Anyways, even if we can't get them out we could always arrange a compromise. I guarantee you something'll come up for us. So long as we make this guy happy." 

James nodded. "Yeah . . . yeah. And he said he liked us. We should just be sure it stays that way for the night." 

* * *

 

Beau walked down the hall and towards what he guessed was the bathroom, when he glanced to his right through an open doorway and saw Kendall in the back room. He was holding a short cigarette butt between his two fingers, exhaling out the small window over the counter. Clearly this was what had caused his delay with the drinks. 

"I was looking for the bathroom," Beau called out to him. 

Kendall barely glanced at him before pointing to the door right where Beau was standing. "There. Not here." 

"Right, thanks." Beau stood there and watched Kendall for another second, as the blonde dropped the cigarette into a nearby ashtray, obviously done with it for now. He turned and made his way towards the refrigerator, opening it up and taking a six-pack of beer out. As he bent down, his t-shirt rode up slowly and Beau got a glance of his ass in those thin little briefs. He bit his lip and smirked to himself, hand moving down to squeeze his crotch lightly for a moment. 

Beau walked over to Kendall, waiting until the blond put the beer down before leaning forward and wrapping an arm around him. Kendall jumped, turning to glare at him. "Dude, I wanna be polite but get off me, I've got things to do." 

"Aww, come on. Just give me a little kiss, what's the harm?" Beau teased, chuckling as he leaned in towards him, holding Kendall tightly when the blonde squirmed angrily. "You know you want to." 

"Go away!" 

"I saw you dancing back there, all sexy, all suggestive, come on—" His hands slid down lower. 

Kendall managed to break free and shove the laughing man back, and when Beau grabbed his arm and tugged him forward with a grin, he punched him right across the face with his free hand. "Don't fucking touch me, shitface!" 

Beau gritted his teeth, smile dropping, "Stiff bitch," before he pounced, slamming his fist up against the side of Kendall's head. With a weak cry of pain, Kendall stumbled back against the wall with dropping eyes and a lolling head, Beau quickly grabbing him to stop him falling. Taking a quick glance over his shoulder and seeing there was nobody there, he quickly propped the dazed blonde up on the counter, lifting his legs up to either side of his waist. He grabbed hold of his briefs and tugged them down his long legs, tossing them onto the floor before slipping between his legs again, giving another overhead glance as he did, breath heavy. Kendall's head moved faintly and he gave a weak groan of pain as Beau unzipped his jeans with one hand and pulled his hardening dick out, stroking it once or twice briefly and grunting in pleasure. Kendall was so out of it that he barely moved or made a sound as Beau slammed in. 

* * *

 

"My throat is so  _dry_ ," Lucy whined, sprawling dramatically across the couch. "Where the fuck is Kendall with the beer? Do you think he got lost again?" 

"No, Lucy," Stephanie sighed, patting her merry friend sympathetically on the head. "That only happened once, this house has a lot of rooms. He'll be here in a minute." 

"She's got a point, he's taken forever. Where's that tipsy dumbass gone to now?" Jett wondered with a sigh, turning to glance at James. When James shrugged and looked as puzzled as he did, Jett got up and left the living room. 

Beau, in the back room, was holding Kendall's legs apart and slamming in and out of him faster, panting and grunting. Occasionally Kendall gave a faint movement, but it wasn't much, his eyes still shut. And he didn't make a sound. 

"HEY!" 

Beau turned with wide eyes to see Jett standing at the door. Furious, Jett sprinted over and yanked Beau away, before throwing him on the floor and kicking him in the face. Then he kicked him again. And again, and again. "You— _kick_ —fucker!— _kick_ —Never— _kick_ —do that— _kick_ —again!!" 

Free from Beau's clutches at last, Kendall started to move properly, sitting up slowly with his t-shirt hiked up around his waist, head still spinning, his backside throbbing in pain. He blinked dazedly, starting to breathe heavier as what had happened came back to him in flashes. The other men were running in after hearing Jett's yell, and then Wayne and Ozzie had to grab Jett by the arms and pull him back. "Stop it Jett, he's had enough!" 

But Jett hadn't had enough, and delivered one more strong kick to the side of Beau's head, his chest heaving with rage. 

Everyone was gathered in the back room now, those who couldn't fit standing just outside the doorway. James shoved his way to the front, staring down at Beau in horror. The man, once handsome, was unrecognisable, his face was so broken, so bloody. He was twitching slightly, eyes fluttering weakly, gurgling as blood dripped out of his nose and mouth. Feeling slightly sick, James stepped back from h, breathing heavily. Suddenly there was no coming back from this, and he knew it. He turned to Jett, chest heaving, and shoved him backwards. "You idiot! Now you've gone and fucked things up! Why did you have to go and do that?!" 

"You'd have done the same thing if you came in here and saw what that prick was doing!" 

That was when they were cut off by the heartbreaking sound of Kendall sobbing, still seated on the counter and shaking uncontrollably. James stared at him, trying to see past the body on their floor. He wanted to go to him, but Beau was blocking the way, in every sense. Instead Jett hurried over to him and pulled the trembling blond into his arms, pulling his t-shirt down for him to cover him up and cooing gently in his ear. "Shh . . ." 

Over the sound of Kendall's cries, Tad glanced down at Beau and mumbled uncertainly to James, "Do you think he's gonna be alright?" 

James scoffed at him, rolling his eyes. "I'm not a doctor, am I?! Ask the jackass who just fucking destroyed our chances of making peace with these guys!" 

"Shut up!" Jett snarled, holding Kendall to his chest protectively, who buried his face in the older man's shirt and clung to his sides. "I'm not fucking sorry, I'd do it again!" 

"Well, that's just  _great_ —" 

"Be quiet, James," Carlos snapped suddenly, out of character for such a mellow guy. But this was a stressful hour. "You're not helping anything." 

"Oh,  _I'm_  not?" After a particularly loud sob from Kendall, James turned to snarl in his direction, "Neither is he, he's not fucking helping anything!" 

"I didn't do anything, you asshole!!" Kendall screamed at him, tears streaming down his cheeks. "H-he just came at me and, and . . ." He dissolved into sobs again, shaking. 

James groaned in frustration, running a hand through his hair and looking down at Beau again. He gave a long sigh. "We've got to do something about him." 

Jett nodded, gently letting Kendall go and thumbing his tears away. He kissed his forehead briefly before saying, "Steph, Camille, you take Kendall upstairs, okay? Make him some coffee or something, I don't know . . ." 

Camille and Stephanie took Kendall's arms and led him from the room, trying to quieten down his distressed cries. Lucy followed behind them, giving James a disapproving and, even worse, disappointed look as she left the room. But he had nothing to say, nothing to excuse his words. It was too late now. 

Jett sighed, walking back over to Beau. "So, what do we do with him? You think his neck's broken?"

Bending down to take a quick look, Logan nodded grimly.

"You fucked him up, Jett," Dak groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to calm himself down. "What are we gonna do now?"


	8. Chapter 8

They decided to kill him.  
  
It was the better option for them, even though every option seemed a lousy one. No matter what happened to Beau, his gang would blame them. If they left him somewhere, maybe eventually someone would find him. But if he ever managed to form a coherent sentence again, he would talk. It was better if he just disappeared. And, their more sympathetic sides knew that it was putting him out of his misery as much as anything else. So Ozzie took his gun and shot him once in the forehead. He died instantly, eyes blank now, no light left in them. They found an old blanket and some garbage bags and wrapped him up tightly.   
  
When Jett, Wayne and Ozzie left with Beau in the trunk of their car, the rest of his gang were left to clean up the bloodstained tiles and James and his gang were promptly seen to the door. They all went their separate ways, going home possibly faster than they ever had. Once inside his apartment, James checked that all the windows were shut, closed all the curtains and locked the door. Then checked it twice, just to make sure.  
  
"Oh god, oh god," he mumbled, fingernails digging into his temples as he slumped down onto his bed, breathing hard through his nostrils and gritting his teeth. Everything,  _everything_  was going according to plan. Everything was fine, it was  _fine_. And now everything was gone to shit.  _Everything_. 

Beau was dead. Beau was their tie to their enemies, and he was  _dead_. Jett beat him to death because he raped Kendall, oh god, he  _raped_  Kendall and James  _yelled_  at him, why did he yell at him?! It wasn't his fault. It was nobody's fault. Maybe Beau's fault. But that didn't matter. It was pointless putting the blame on the non-living.  

And now they were in danger, all of them. How could they not be? Beau's gang knew where he was, they knew who he was with, they would know what happened when he didn't come back. And they would be angry. It was only a matter of hours before they realised he was dead. What would they do then? He lay down flat on his back, breathing hard as he stared hard at a crack in the plaster on his ceiling.

Eventually he fell asleep like that; he had no idea what time it was, but could swear the last thing he remembered hearing was a small flock of morning birds outside his window.  
  
When he woke up late that morning, he made up his mind that the most important thing was to apologise to Kendall. He got out of bed, took a  quick shower and changed, grabbed an apple to eat on the way and locked up the apartment carefully, checking each window twice. Walking to Jett's place, he had never been more aware of his surroundings. Anyone who passed him, he immediately stiffened and kept a wary eye on them until they were out of sight. He reckoned people thought he was either on something, or on his way to blow something up. Turned out that being suspicious of everyone made him look, ironically, incredibly suspicious himself. At last he arrived in Jett's estate; the silence, rather than offering him a sense of safety, caused him to feel even more uneasy. It was unnerving, frightening.  
James took a deep breath and knocked on the door, glancing over his shoulder apprehensively as he did. That feeling was back; the creeping sensation of being watched. He glanced upwards at the visible windows of Jett's house, but saw no one. Of course that meant nothing, and did nothing to calm his nerves.

At last the door opened; it was Kendall, standing there in sweatpants and a black T-shirt. His eyes narrowed immediately when he saw James, hand gripping the door tighter as he asked coldly, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, um . . ." Scratching the back of his head, he cleared his throat and said at last, timidly, "Can we talk for a minute?"

Giving an aggravated sigh, Kendall stepped back and shoved the door back, giving James room to walk in; though he had to quickly stop the door from swinging back and hitting him in face. Probably what Kendall was going for, really. The blond stood back and folded his arms, bouncing on his heels and waiting. James shut the front door and walked to him, noticing his shoulders tense as they neared each other. "Kendall, I . . . I'm sorry."

"Okay."

"No, really. I was out of line last night, yelling at you, it wasn't okay, I was just stressed—"

"Okay."

"Is that all? 'Okay'?"

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"W-well, it's just not really clear if—"

"Yeah, I've gotta go, James. Jett wants me," Kendall replied dismissively, glancing behind his back towards the kitchen.

"Nobody called you!" James protested. "Kendall—"

"Well, I'm sure he'll want me once I get there. You can let yourself out." Turning away, Kendall stomped to the kitchen door, before stopping in the doorway, turning and adding with a growl, " _Bastard_." And he slammed the kitchen door shut.

"Kendall . . ." James pressed his hands to his face, groaning in frustration as he kicked the skirting board of the wall by the door, wincing and cursing more at the pain. What was the point? He opened the front door and stormed out, slamming it hard behind him and rushing down the driveway onto the sidewalk. It was only as he was a decent distance from the house that he slowed his pace, panting hard and shoving his hands in his pockets when he walked. What if Kendall never forgave him? What if he blew it forever? That chemistry they had, the passion, the emotion . . . it couldn't all go away. It just couldn't. Thinking back on it now, it was so quick, so fleeting. They were only together for a very short time, and yet it felt much longer.

There was that expression, "Time flies when you're having fun". With Kendall, it was always the opposite. Time slowed almost to a stop when they were together; it gave him a sense of security, of bliss. That feeling that their time together could last so long was the greatest comfort of all.

If that was all gone, forever, he didn't know what he would do. The thought was difficult to bear.

* * *

He spent the rest of his afternoon wandering around between his apartment and the street. Staying seated was impossible, and while the night before staying in his apartment made him feel safer, today it made him feel caged. So he took little trips from home to the grocery store to the park to a bar and back again. He wandered with his eyes and ears open at all times, even with his head spinning in a tangle of confusion, worry, and simple pain. Emotional pain. This sucked. It all sucked. Despite these uncomfortable thoughts plaguing his mind, the day was uneventful. He ran into nobody suspicious, nobody worth thinking more than a few seconds about. He saw nothing worth his attention. Until early evening, on his walk back from his third trip to the store for “necessary grocery items”, none of which he actually bought.  
  
There it was, sprayed on a wall, in an alley only around the corner from his apartment. He stopped in his tracks, choking on a gulp of air as he saw the logo sprayed messily on the wall with aerosol paint. Beau's gang. They were around, they could be anyone, they could be anywhere. 

They were doomed.

He had to tell Jett about this.

No, he had to get Kendall to forgive him. He would _not_ die while they were having a fight. Fuck. 

And so he changed direction and strode down the street towards where Jett's estate was. And now, to anyone passing, he probably looked like he was on his way to blow something up, or just a man on a mission. Maybe a man in love? Nah, not yet . . . possibly. 

When Jett's house came into view it only encouraged him to walk faster, feet slamming off the sidewalk in determination, stinging a little through the thin soles of his shoes but that was fine, it didn't matter, what mattered much more was getting to the house and spilling the beans to the all-important people inside there. Kendall would have to forgive him. He simply wouldn’t stand for anything else at this point. 

James knocked on door firmly, three times, before ringing the doorbell for good measure. He saw the door open, a flash of blond and said, "Look, I really need to—"  
  
"You need to what?" Jett asked sharply, holding the door open and staring hard at him. "Something the matter, James? You look a little sweaty."  
  
"I, uh . . ." Thinking fast, James blurted out, "I came to see you, of course!"  
  
With an oddly wide smile, Jett nodded eagerly and stepped aside to let James in. Of course, he should have seen that Jett never ever smiled like that, not when he meant it. But it mattered more to him that he saw Kendall and made damn sure he forgave him. So he walked inside the house, Jett shutting the door after him. "Anyone else here?" James asked in what he dearly hoped was a casual voice.  
  
"I thought it was me you wanted to see," Jett replied bitingly, standing in front of him and folding his arms. His blue eyes were cold. "Right?"  
  
"R-right."  
  
"You are such a shit liar."

  
"Who else would I be here to see? Don't be ridiculous . . ."  
  
"Nah man, I know exactly who you're here to see."  
  
"I-I . . . fuck, Jett, listen—"  
  
That was when Jett's scowl turned to a slight smirk. He gave a little chuckle, causing James to stop short and stare at him blankly. "Caught you," he said softly, grinning slyly as he stepped uncomfortably closer to him. James could see the large vein protruding from his forehead and swallowed nervously. "So, how long have you been fucking him?"  
  
"W-well, I uh . . ."  _Oh shit, please don’t punch me. I love my face_. "I-I wouldn't word it like that, exactly—"  
  
"Cut the shit, Diamond. How  _long_?" Jett growled, shoving him back against the wall. He gripped the front of his shirt tightly, teeth clenched as he waited for James' answer.  
  
He gulped, voice shaking as he replied at last, slowly, "Literally only like a week. We were meeting up every couple of days, I swear that's it. Well there was one other time before that but I paid him so technically we didn't do anything wrong—"  
  
Jett held his finger up sharply and James clamped his mouth shut. "So this was like, a consistent thing between you two?"  
  
"Yeah . . . I guess you could call it a thing. I'm sorry."  
  
Jett quirked an eyebrow. "Then why did you blow up in his face the other night?"  
  
"What?" The question threw him off guard; he frowned and lightly pulled Jett's hands off his shirt.  
  
"You yelled the head off him, we all saw it. What'd you go doing that for if you two have a thing?"

"I, well . . . I was stressed," James replied defensively. "Can you blame me? Everything was going well and then it all went south and he was giving me a headache—"

"That's not cool, man. He just got raped by that scumbag."

James flinched at the word 'raped', knowing Jett was right. "That's why I really came here . . . to try and say sorry again. I feel terrible."

"Huh. Well . . . you're in luck. It's just us two in the house." Turning towards the stairs, Jett rested his hand on the bannister and leaned up. "Kendall!" he yelled up the stairs. "Get down here!"

"Are you not angry anymore?" James asked doubtfully, stepping back a little just in case the shorter man sprung at him again.

"Oh, I'm angry. But we've got more important things to worry about right now. I can put our fight on hold for now. Don't say a word to Kendall about it, got it?"

 "My lips are sealed . . ."

 "Jett, what's— oh." Stopping halfway down the stairs, Kendall and James' eyes met for an uncomfortable moment. "What's he doing here?" Kendall asked Jett tightly, hand gripping the bannister hard as he descended the last few steps to stand beside his boss.

"Baby, don't be like that. He's here to say sorry for how he treated you the other night. Can't you see in his face that he's real sorry?"

"I am, Kendall," James pleaded. "I'm so so sorry. I was over the line. Please forgive me . . . or at least consider it. Please?  _Please_?"

Jett gave him a look and he stopped himself from saying "please" a third time, just watching Kendall bite his lip and gaze down at the floor, lightly scuffing it with his toe. "I guess I can," he said at last, looking up and meeting his gaze again. He smiled. "We've got more important things to worry about anyway, right?" 

"Right," Jett said cheerfully, arm around Kendall's shoulders. He looked at James, smile still plastered on his face as he added, "That's exactly what I said." Their eyes remained locked the whole time. James swallowed and gave a little nod.  

"I'm  _so_  glad you guys are friends again," Jett continued, beaming as he patted Kendall gently on the back. "Tell you what, why don't the three of us go out for a few drinks? I know a good place to go, but we'll have to drive. That's probably safer anyway." 

"You think we'll be okay?" James checked doubtfully, glancing over his shoulder at the front door. 

"Sure, we'll keep an eye out. Our biggest issue would be those few seconds out of the car. We'll be quick. Come on, let's go." 

"I'll grab my jacket!" Kendall said cheerily, turning back and running up the stairs. "I'll get yours too!" 

"Thanks!" Jett called after him, turning to smile at James. James smiled back weakly, not really knowing what else to do. He was afraid to speak again for fear of triggering the older man's a fee. If Jett wanted to put off their fight, he could deal with that. He'd put it off until the end of time. More importantly, Kendall forgave him now. Maybe then they could go back to how things were before the incident with Beau. Once they were all in the clear, of course. Priorities. 

"Okay, I'm here," Kendall said chirpily, slipping on his black jacket and handing Jett his. "Let's go. You guys will buy me drinks, right?" 

"Of course, kiddo," James teased, lightly bumping his fist off the blond's shoulder as the three of them walked to the front door, James opening it up first and walking out. Kendall followed him out, standing with their hands lightly brushing together behind his back as Jett locked the door. They stood apart again when Jett joined them, and the three walked down the driveway to his car. Jett got in the driver's seat, James in the passenger seat while Kendall slipped in the backseat behind James, giving them both a sweet little smile in the rearview mirror. Both grinned back at him. 

"Okay, let's get going," Jett announced cheerfully, staring the car and pulling out of the driveways. The neighbourhood was quiet in the semi darkness of the evening, a few other cars parked in the driveways of the occupied houses, the road deserted. Jett drove to the end of the estate and took a right, driving out the small road and stopping at the junction, peering forward and back on the public road. James took a glance too; the only other car on the road seemed to be a parked car to their left, two men sitting inside, one reading the paper and one on his phone. 

"All clear," James announced. Jett nodded in affirmation and drove out onto the road. Just as they did, James heard the sound of screeching tyres, heard a deafening crash as their car was smacked to the side as though it weighed nothing. His head made contact with the window; he cried out in pain as his seatbelt cut hard into his shoulder. The impact came from the left. 

James sat up at last, blinking in a daze, eyes finding the rearview mirror, where he could see a cut on his temple and Kendall slumped against the back window, eyes fluttering. The opposite side of the car had a gigantic dent in the back doors, where they had been hit. But he saw something else, in the outside right mirror. 

Those men from before, they were getting out of their parked car, sprinting past the car that had hit them, now lying abandoned with its doors wide open. He saw them walk towards him, breath quickening in panic. But instead, they grabbed the back door handle and yanked it open. He could only watch as one reached in, unbuckled Kendall's seatbelt, and helped his partner lift him from the car. 

"What are you . . .  _stop_." He tried to sit up, wincing, head spinning; the reflection of the two men putting Kendall in their car spinning too. They drove away in a blurred flurry of echoes and rings.

He heard the distant sounds of sirens, an ambulance approaching. His head lolled against the headrest of his seat, seeing Jett slumped over, unconscious in his own seat, face bloody. His vision blurred, his head ringing. He let his eyes drift shut, breath catching in his chest.  
  
_This can't be happening . . ._


	9. Chapter 9

Shockingly, James and Jett were fine. Neither of them even had a concussion, all they really needed were a few stitches and a nice glass of water and they were free to go. Though not before the police asked them for any information they might have on the culprit of the hit and run.  _Two white men_ , was the only information they had to offer, and all they were willing to give up. 

The others were sitting out in the waiting room when they arrived, all getting to their feet instantly at the sight of James and Jett coming towards them. "Not a word," Jett murmured to them before turning and walking straight out the doors. The others followed blindly after him, James rushing a little to keep in step with them.

"Jett, what happened?!" Lucy demanded the moment they were out on the street and standing beside their cars. Jett's car had been towed off somewhere; it was clear the older man didn't give a shit where. "Was it Beau's men?"

Jett slammed his hand hard against Wayne's car, ignoring his wince as he snarled out, voice quaking through this facade of power, "They took Kendall."

The collective gasps around them made James sigh and fold his arms tight against his chest. "Why would they take Kendall?" Logan wondered with a frown. "I don't see what they'd gain from it . . . is he a hostage?"

"But what value does an escort have as a hostage?" Carlos quickly raised his hands and shook his head as the members of Jett's gang threw him poisonous looks. "No, look, I know Kendall is as important to you as any other gang member, but on the surface he's just an escort. So how would Beau's men know that?"

"Dude, dudes, listen!"

They all turned to see Guitar Dude approaching them, walking faster than they'd ever seen, a folded piece of paper in his hand. "Some guy stopped me on my way, gave me this," he said, handing it to Jett. "I looked at it, looked up again and he was gone . . . it's bad, Jett."

Jett unfolded the paper and gave it a quick glance. The expression on his face said it all; the widening of his eyes, the tremble in his lip, the way his fingers tightly squeezed the edges of the paper. "What is it?" James demanded.

Jett slowly turned the paper around in his hands and showed them all the picture. It was printed off on cheap paper, the ink slightly faded in certain colours, but the content was clear; Kendall, seated in a dark room, tied to a chair, duct tape over his mouth and eyes. On the top of the picture, written in thick black marker were the words  _LIFE SENTENCE_.

"Oh no," Camille wheezed, pressing her body tight against Lucy's. "They're going to . . ."

"But he hasn't done anything wrong!" Ozzie shouted in frustration, tearing the picture from Jett's hands and staring at it with narrowed eyes. "Life sentence for  _what_? You're the one who kicked Beau to death, not Kendall, why are they punishing him?"

"They must think Kendall killed him," Dak said in a low voice. "But why? Like Carlos said, he seems like just an escort, he wouldn't be capable—"

They were cut off by the sudden, shrill sound of James' phone. Ha fished it it quickly from his pocket and glanced at the UNKNOWN NUMBER flashing across the screen. Glancing up at the others, he knew they were all thinking the same thing he was. Even so, he lifted it to his ear and accepted the call. "Hello?" he said, forcing his voice not to shake. 

 _"James."_  Kendall's voice rang out shakily on the other side. James opened his mouth to speak — though to say what, he didn't even know — when Kendall added in, somewhat sharply,  _"It's Jett."_

". . . . Jett?" James glanced at Jett, who frowned at him in puzzlement.

_"Yeah, it's me. They gave one of my men a photo, I heard."_

"Y-yes . . . Yeah, they did. We have it here." James swallowed, voice finally giving in to the quakes as he said, "What do they want from you, Jett? From us?"

_"I-I'm bait. I killed Beau. James—"_

James' knees trembled at the sound of Kendall's pained, panic-stricken voice. It broke his heart. However, only a second later Kendall was cut off and his voice was replaced by a calmer, deeper one, _"That's enough."_

"Let him go!" James demanded before he could stop himself, aware of how basic — and well, lame — it sounded.

 _"We thought it was so bizarre,"_  the stranger on the other end chuckled, " _that two gangs known for their hatred of one another would suddenly just gel together and bond like best buds who'd never fought. But checking you two out, we figured it out. You were fucking him. Makes sense, I guess, if you're into that kind of thing."_

"Look, I—"

_"Do you think I'd enjoy that? Fucking him? It might be fun—"_

"Don't you dare—"

_"He's definitely a screamer, he put up quite a fight before we tied him up—"_

"You fucking—"

 _"Well, anyway, that's not why I called."_  The man sounded bored now.  _"Look, he can say what he wants but we know Jett didn't kill Beau. It doesn't surprise me hugely, you know the foot soldiers are always sent to to the dirty work. And this guy's not much of a soldier, I don't know how he's kept his leadership so long. Maybe he's great with the words? Who knows. Point is, what better way to lure out Beau's killer than with your precious leader? Why don't we all meet up and have a little chat about it?"_

 _"James, don't—"_  The sound of Kendall's urgent yell was cut off with the sound of skin impacting skin and a gruff,  _"Gag him again."_

 _"You know the place. Where this all started; where we killed one of yours, James. One hour."_ And with that, he promptly hung up, leaving James squeezing his phone tightly and biting his lip so hard he broke skin.

"It makes sense now," he said at last, feeling the others' eyes burning into his skin. They didn't have much time; he owed them an explanation as quickly as he could give it. "For the last while, I've felt like I was being watched when I was with Kendall. I always thought it was because I was paranoid about you finding out." He looked at Jett. "But it was them. They think Kendall is the leader of your gang, they think he's Jett."

"Shit." Jett's hand raked back through his hair, brow furrowed as he said, "So . . . so what do we do now?"

How could it be that throughout this whole thing, Jett had been the one giving the orders to James, he had been the one calling the shots and explaining the plans they would carry out — and now here he was, staring at James with pleading eyes for some advice, some guidance. He couldn't understand why, until it hit him in a sudden wave of jealousy, pity and simply shock — Jett was afraid. Kendall was in trouble, and it terrified him; it disabled him, he had no sense of what to do when he was at stake. It was up to James to take charge, when it mattered the most. He took a deep breath and spoke at last.

"We have to meet them in an hour," he told them. "Where they left Tyler's body. It's not far from here — I'm guessing they're going to bring Kendall. Though I'm not sure how he'll be . . . a-anyway, then I guess they'll want the real killer to step forward. I don't know what'll happen after that, but somehow I doubt that they'll just leave us be."

Jett sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right, right, okay . . . so what’s the plan?”

They had little time to discuss it, but what they chose to do was to arm themselves and be ready to fight at any time. None of them would step forward to confirm themselves as Beau’s killer; instead, some of them would stick to the shadows and wait to strike once they felt the time was right. They would not take any shot that might result in Kendall being injured or killed. That was what seemed like the best strategy, the smartest and safest. And so James found himself standing in the meeting place where not too long ago, Tyler’s body lay. He watched the van belonging to the other gang pull up and come to a halt. He held his breath and waited.

At last, this man who'd spoken to him on the phone stepped out of the van, holding Kendall's hands in one of his. His hands were bound behind his back, his mouth and eyes uncovered now; perhaps they wanted him to witness this? This man held him close, pressing the barrel of his gun to his flushed cheek. James watched them both with wide eyes, own gun in the back pocket of his jeans. An easy place to hold it until he had that split second he needed to bring it out and take any shot he needed to. And he would. James had never really been one to kill on impulse, but this time, this time there would be no hesitation. Kendall's wide green eyes met his.

“Well,” the man announced, cocky smile on his face as he asked, “Step forward, won’t you? Which one of you killed him?”

As they planned, nobody said a word. Each of them simply poised their hands ready to strike. James glanced at Lucy, catching her eye. She gave a little smile, barely noticeable. But then her smile fell and her eyes darted elsewhere, just as James spotted movement out of the corner of his eye. Jett was stepping forward. “Ease your hold on him,” he said, hand on his gun in his back pocket. “And you’ll get your information.”

“Dude,” Wayne hissed. “Shut up.”

The man shrugged, smirking a little as his arm eased just a little, giving Kendall space to breathe, but pressing the gun to the side of his head instead. A little circular dent was left in the flesh of his cheek. His eyes followed Jett widely, gaping at him. “Now, talk.”

Jett removed his gun and pointed it towards the man, but surely he didn’t have a clear shot . . . “I did.”

A shot rang out, but it wasn’t Jett’s gun, and it wasn’t the man holding Kendall either, but one of his henchmen. Jett slumped to the ground, wound in his abdomen that he pressed his hand tight to, splayed out on the ground. “ _JETT!_ ” Kendall screamed, struggling violently against his captor’s hold. James winced when he suddenly realised what Kendall had let slip, as the man turned to glare at Kendall and snarled, “You little _bitch_.”

The man shoved Kendall to the ground, raising his gun and pointing it right at the back of Kendall's head. Rage surged through James and he didn't think; he just shot. And their leader fell. Blood spattered Kendall's cheek and the body fell next to him, his wide green eyes following it as he trembled and lay there, hands still tied.

Seeing the way was clear now, James sprinted to him, pulling him up by the arms and dragging him to the other side of the car, ducking behind it with him and sitting him on the concrete. "You have to help Jett, James, you have to help him," Kendall pleaded, squirming a little as James untied him. "Please, James—"

"I'll help him, I will, but you have to stay here," James told him firmly, pushing him back down by the shoulder when he tried to get up. "Stay here and stay safe, while we finish this. You don't know how to fight."

"But—"

"Look, the sooner we finish, the sooner we can help Jett." He smiled as Kendall nodded and settled back down on the ground, drawing his knees in close to his chest. "Good. I'll be back."

James stepped back out from behind the car at a break in the gunshots. What he saw was that gang, those men who had started this story, some lying on the concrete in pools of blood spreading slowly from their wounds, other ducking down, weapons thrown to the ground as they held their hands up in surrender. And once given the chance, they sprinted away, one tripping over a companion's body in the process. James saw Kendall crawl to where Jett lay, cupping his cheeks, pulling his face towards his, murmuring something to him. He visibly shed a tear or two when Jett half opened his eyes and looked up at him. James turned away and beckoned Logan over. "Get a car," he ordered briskly. "We need to get him to a hospital. Don't let him die, got it?"

* * *

Kendall had never looked so pale, so tense.

His hands were clenched so tight together on his lap that his fingernails were leaving sore crescent shaped grooves in his skin. One foot bounced up and down with no consistent rhythm as he looked around and waited, and waited. James sat with an arm around him, but it was comfort that he clearly didn't notice.

After what seemed like an hour of Kendall's foot jumping and anxious twitching, a doctor with dark hair cropped close to his head came out to their waiting area and walked to them, holding up a clipboard and glancing at it. "Jett Stetson?" he spoke up, startled when the mob of people in the seats all stood up and clustered towards him. "U-um—"

"Is he okay?" Kendall asked desperately. "Did you fix him up?"

"He is okay," the doctor told him with a smile. "The operation went by with no issues, he's resting now. He should be awake quite soon, actually. But . . ." He glanced again around at his audience. "Really, I think only a couple of you should go in and see him at a time. He'll be tired."

"I want to go," Kendall said, glancing back at the others. When none of them protested, James spoke up and said, "Me too?"

Wayne glanced at the other members of his gang, and though each of their faces was beginning to lose that anxious tension, they still looked grim and worn out. "You can go," Wayne replied for them. "It's fine."

Given the room number, James and Kendall took off, James struggling to keep up with Kendall's power walking— the closest he could get to that wouldn't give a nurse cause to tell him off. They arrived and Kendall strode through the door, reaching Jett's bed and sitting down. He took the older man's hand and squeezed it, gazing at him with large eyes. James sat beside him, watching. Another gentle squeeze from Kendall's hand and Jett's eyelids fluttered, before opening slowly and turning to glance at them. "Hi, baby," he greeted sleepily, giving a weak smile. "You're okay."

Kendall nodded, sniffling weakly as he replied softly, "You too. I'm sorry, Jett . . ."

"It wasn't your fault. They grabbed you from the car, what could you have done?"

"I-I should've tired harder to escape . . ."

"No, don't talk like that, got it? It's over now."

"He's right, Kendall," James added. "There's no point passing blame around, it was none of our faults. And it is over. How're you feeling, Jett?"

"I've been better, but I'll get there," Jett chuckled. "I kind of ran into that bullet, huh?"

"I guess so," James chuckled too, and even Kendall let out a weak little laugh.

"Listen, Kendall." Jett sat up a little straighter and squeezed his hand. "You were really great out there."

"I wasn't," Kendall replied with a sigh. "I blew the whole cover up—"

"No, listen. You were really smart to keep on pretending to be me. It's what kept you alive, you know that right? It was resourceful."

"I guess so . . ."

"It's the kind of thing," Jett finished with a charming smile, their eyes connected, "that I need in members of my gang."

Kendall's eyes widened. " _Me?_ " he exclaimed, finger touching his own chest as though he couldn't quite believe the words. "Really?"

"I've loved having you work for me, baby, but I think it's time you work with me for a change. If you want to, that is. I think you'd be good at it. I'll teach you whatever else you need to know."

Kendall nodded, beaming as he hugged Jett close. "Thank you," he sighed with a grin, pecking Jett's cheek. "I'd love to."

"Now, you." Jett beckoned James closer to him. James walked over, hands clasped a little nervously behind his back. Was Jett about to finally deal with the situation of him and Kendall? 

"What do you say," Jett said, tapping his finger on James' chin playfully, "to us sticking together from now on? I think we make a good team."

James' jaw dropped. "Seriously? You want to work with me? Even after—"

"Yes James, even after. I feel like we'll both need the extra help. Not just that, but it means Blondie here won't be sneaking off 24/7 to meet you. It'll all be one location, all out in the open."

"You knew?" Kendall squeaked. "For how long?"

"A little while. You're a bad liar."

"I am not!"

Jett chuckled, turning back to James. "So. Do we have a deal?"

James grinned and held out his hand. "Let's shake on it."

Jett's hand met his and they shook, Kendall watching them with a wide smile, cheeks dimpled. The three of them had all left a home for different reasons, all cast out into the tough, hard concrete of the streets, the shadows of the buildings and cars. Now, banded together, they would make it more than their home; they would make it their kingdom. 

And James had found the perfect king to share it with.


End file.
